Pale in the Shadows
by kurakira
Summary: AU version of PS. Harry's already emotionally abused world is further turned upside down when he learns he's a wizard and supposedly the savior of Europe's wizarding world. Potential Draco/Harry
1. Magick in the Air Prologue

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Prologue**

**Author's Note: **There's no point in my hashing out that this is copyrighted to someone else because it's fan fiction, so I think that's obvious. In order to work on world building, I decided to write my own version of Harry Potter. The nice part about fan fiction is the characters are already there for me and the base concept is there, I just have to tweak it to my match my mind's eye. Pale in the Shadows is broken into four parts and somewhat follows Philosopher's Stone; however, there are obvious differences. Each part will begin with a prologue about some point and time for the founders. Thank you and please enjoy Pale in the Shadows.

**Warnings:** I will try and post any warnings of homosexual natures, heterosexual fruits, cumquats, boogers, and curses before chapters to help you equip yourselves and skip things that may blind your eyes upon visual acceptance.

* * *

The horse she straddled whickered as a harsh wind blew past, his nose blowing out misty white in the moonlight. Her clothes shielded her from much of the chill; however, she pulled out a wooden stick no longer than her forearm and muttered a warming incantation allowing for the air to gently warm around them; she could feel the animal ease beneath her in the blanket of gentle heat. With a sigh, the woman lazily looked about her as she waited in the circle of barren trees, the winter frost glazing the refuse in shattered crystal.

'Helga.' With a sound much like a rock plunking into a lake, a man materialized in a ripple of grey. He was tall and broad shouldered, imposing in a fur cloak that draped over leathers died brown and black. Icy green eyes shown in the moonlight, wild and fierce. 'Why have you called me here in the dead of night?' The wind whipped his silver hair about his face, the bone beads tied into braids clacking against each other.

'You very well know why I summoned you,' Helga chided as she wrapped the reigns around her hands, sliding from the beast to the frozen ground. 'Come back home.'

Wrapping his arms about his torso, the older man laughed richly into the night. 'Come home? And what? Have Godric continue his preaching? Have him continue to slander me in the name of his belief?'

With a sigh, the woman scuffed at the earth, looking at the mottled rotten leaves with deep thought. 'You know as well as I do that man doesn't always think before he leaps; however, Hogwarts is just as much yours as it is his. We four founded it together when we were at our lowest—you and I especially have reason to call it home since we fled the mainland. Do not let him strip that which is most important from you.'

'Just as much mine as his?' Salazar gave a snort, his eyes sorrow-filled as he shook his head. 'No, that man does not comprehend my thinking and in turn he is causing an uproar in the school. He who believes that all who can perform magick should be taught despite the dirty blood of some? A man who believes that the wild magicks of the earth and heavens should be ignored? I care not for what his house allows in it; however, in my house I exclusively wish to keep tradition of purest form. Godric, though, claims I am too unbendable because I refuse the _mudbloods_ into my house; however, my choice is exclusively with wild magicks because I wish not tame that which should never be caged. Hogwarts will be better off without two extremely powerful wizards butting heads, thus I have made arrangements for my house, and I shall see to it that the pureblood families are guarded if possible.'

'I understand both of your wills; however, I wish you would reconsider,' Helga said, rubbing at her nose with gloved fingers. '. I feel like you're leaving me, your friend. Even though I have Rowena and Godric, it is not the same as talking to one I have gone through the worst and stood strong against.'

Salazar stepped forward, hugging Helga in a tight embrace. 'You are a dear soul I admire. Never once have I considered you less being half-blood. I just wish Godric and Rowena would see we can unite our worlds by showing this diverseness versus merging and melding so tightly. A pureblood is not the same as a muggle-born and we cannot teach them thus.' He pulled back, a sad smile marring his face. 'You, Helga, are the soul and spirit of that which we wanted. You will keep Hogwarts alive.' With that he turned, leaving Helga, tears slowly falling down her rosy cheeks—and disappeared into the winter's night.


	2. 1 There Is No Such Thing

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – There is No Such Thing Chapter 1**

**Warning:** Abuse is never okay no matter what means you try to justify it. Children do not get over it, they adapt and develop. What hurts us either makes us stronger or breaks us.

* * *

His ribs hurt as he tried to situate himself on the trundle bed, the pillow pressed firmly into his face. As he tried to find a more comfortable position, he heard a faint crack. Realizing he had left his glasses on, the plastic jutting painfully into his nose, he sat up with a wince and pulled the thick frames from his face. 'Oh no.' Harry Potter felt tears burn at his eyes, panic sinking into his heart as he held two halves in his hands. Looking around the cupboard in which he slept, thankful for the little light that shone in from under the doorway, he found one of his socks and folded the pieces inside, tucking them under his pillow. He curled on his side, ignoring the throbbing of bruised ribs.

_I'll have to tape them when Aunt Petunia goes shopping. I'm sure that Dudley's going over to a friends since it's the holidays, so I'll be left alone because _he_ has work tomorrow. Everything should be fine so long as _he_ never knows that I broke them_. Harry closed his eyes, resting his head against the pillow. He listened calmly as his aunt's footsteps shuffled about and echoed as she went up the stairs. With each creak of the worn wood, he began to remember that morning, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Harry didn't usually do anything during the holidays except stay in his room under the stair reading books or going for walks around the neighborhood; however, for once Dudley had stayed in , so they had decided to watch some cartoons on the television. They were laughing and joking about magick and the like when Vernon came barreling into the living area having just gotten home from work, his face livid. He had ordered Dudley out of the house and, panicked, Dudley had complied. Harry couldn't blame his cousin because he too had wanted to run. Before he knew what was going on, the television had been unplugged, and Vernon was picking Harry up by his collar.

'NEVER EVER ARE YOU TO MENTION MAGICK IN THIS HOUSE!'

_The rules are absolute._ Harry found himself blinking away tears as he quietly cried.

In the Dursley house there were two sets of rules. One belonged to Petunia, Harry's aunt, and were such things as wash your hands before dinner, don't track mud into the house, take care of trash every other week, and keep your room tidy. The other set were made by Uncle Vernon and were solely for Harry. No make-believe in the house, no games or fiction books, and the words like 'magick' or involving magick were forbidden. The most important rule of all was Harry was not permitted to tell Petunia about the special rules or the punishments.

Clenching his eyes, Harry could still feel his uncle's fist smacking him in the ribs. 'You are not mention magick nor are you to be watching television! How many times do I have to tell you!'

_I don't even remember when or why he started to hate me,_ Harry thought. _I mean, I've always been in the cupboard, but that's because they don't have any other rooms._ The Dursley family lived in a one bedroom house with a large living area where Dudley slept on the couch, a kitchen, bathroom, and even small cellar-like area. Harry understood that they could have very well put him up for adoption, as his uncle so _kindly_ reminded him, but instead they had kept him giving him the bed-size closet under the stairs.

Slowly his breathing evened out and his thoughts grew fuzzy. Harry knew he must have fallen asleep when he saw two blurred figures before him. He called out to them, but no sound escaped his throat, and though he tried to move it felt like he was stuck in place. Fighting against the invisible force, he tried to run, propelling his arms, tugging at his legs. Somehow he knew that it was his parents.

* * *

The morning sun was just creeping up as Petunia stared out at the lawn through the eastern window. The grass needed to be cut and the flowerbeds were in danger of being overrun by weeds. Fingers itching to get to work, she sipped at a mug of steaming Darjeeling when she heard panicked whimpers and a scream that caused her to jerk. Setting the cup down, she rushed over to the closet and tried to open the door; however, it didn't budge. 'Harry?' she knocked on the door. 'Are you all right?' Silence greeted her as she tried the knob once more. 'Harry, did you lock the door?'

'Aunt Petunia?' the voice was unsure, disconnected from reality. 'I-I didn't lock the door. There's no lock from the inside.'

Petunia frowned and shuffled back to the kitchen, opening up the drawer with spare keys to the car, the storage room, and on a long strand of red ribbon, the key to the closet. _Why would he be locked in? Maybe Dudley did it as a prank?_ She felt a strange niggling as though she was leaving something out, but she shrugged off the feeling. Unlocking the door, she opened it to find Harry sitting, curled around his legs, his face splotchy from crying, and the peculiar scar on his forehead fiery red. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, feeling him flinch against her touch. Ignoring it, Petunia sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the boy into her arms, stroking his back soothingly. 'What happened?'

'Nothing.' His voice held a finality in it. Unmoving.

'Was it just a bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?'

The boy shook his head, slowly pulling out of his aunt's arms. He looked pensive, but instead of saying anything about his dream, he muttered, 'I'm okay. Really.'

Not wanting to press the matter, she reached out and wiped the tears away. 'Alright. Why don't you help me with breakfast? Dudley should be getting up in a bit since he's going camping with his friend.' About to get up and leave, she realized that Harry had yet to move. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

'I'm not feeling well is all.' Harry didn't move and glanced at a lumpy sock that poked out from under his pillow.

Curious, Petunia reached out just as Harry snatched it stuffing it behind his back. '_Harry_.' She was rarely severe with the boy, but she didn't like the fact that he was hiding something from her. Slowly, Harry pulled the sock out and passed it to her. She fished inside and pulled out the broken glasses. 'Oh, no! What happened?'

Not looking at her again, Harry muttered, 'It was an accident. I forgot I was wearing them when I went to bed. I-I'm sorry.'

Some weird feeling twitched in Petunia. It was faint, but it made her think of a lioness protecting its cub. She didn't say anything for a few minutes as the feeling welled, but just as suddenly it vanished. Giving a soft smile she ruffled Harry's messy hair. 'Honey, it's okay. Accidents happen. I'm glad you told me so we can go to store today and get them fixed. Why don't you stay in bed until your uncle leaves?' As he nodded, she got up and closed the door behind her, testing the knob again to make sure it was unlocked. She couldn't place why Vernon had to be gone before Harry left the closet, but just as with the strange protective feeling that had filled her earlier, the thought sank deep into her subconscious left to be forgotten.

* * *

Late that night, Petunia crawled under the covers while Vernon was studying a magazine under lamplight. She curled up with the pillow under her cheek and watched her husband as he read. He had gained a few pounds since their marriage and his thick blond hair had since receded and grown thinner with a few grey hairs here and there. Recently, he had decided to grow out his mustache, which covered his upper lip like a broom. Realizing she was watching, Vernon put the magazine down. 'What is it?'

'I want to talk to you about Harry,' she replied.

Snapping the magazine shut, rolling it up like a baton, Vernon turned to stare at the end of the bed. 'Oh?'

'He's been acting differently. More so than usual. He's been having nightmares, but he won't tell me about them. He's been waking up in the wee hours in a sweat and screaming. I'm really worried about him. When I talked to a few of the others,' she was of course referring to the Women's Club that she participated in on the weekends, 'they talked about night terrors and how maybe the bullying at school is at fault.' Taking a deep breath, Petunia couldn't help but feel sad that her nephew wouldn't confide in her. He was the only tie she had left to her sister and some part of her wanted that connection. 'I just was curious if you'd noticed anything or if maybe he's talked to you?'

It took her husband a moment to reply. 'I haven't noticed anything. I barely spend time with him with being so busy at work.' He paused a moment. 'Are you sure it's not _that_?'

Shifting so she could sit up, Petunia stared at her hands, looking at a lattice of scars that went beyond her sleeve and stretched to her upper arm. 'Of course it can't be. I mean, I don't know for certain. I barely remember what it was like when Lily would have her _accidentals_, but from what I know they don't cause nightmares. I-I think he's remembering what happened to his parents, or his subconscious is making it up. I'm really worried about him. Do you think we should get him counseling?'

There was silence for a while, Petunia tentatively looked up at Vernon. He turned and patted her hand. 'And tell them what? The same spiel we tell the boy? No, I think he'll grow out of it.' His features hardened and his face twisted. 'Just like we'll stamp out that blasted magick.'

Surprised at the vehemence in her husband's voice, Petunia flinched. 'Honey,' she watched as he traced the scars, 'you understand that was an accident right? Even my sister had had similar instances when she was a child. They can't control when it gets away from them and it's not like it's happened again.'

Snorting, Vernon replied, 'You think it's okay because he didn't _mean_ it? You call him _screaming_ and _shattering_ the glass door all over you at _two_ okay because it was just an _accident_!' His voice had raised, spittle flying from his mouth. 'You're luck to still have your arm! No matter what excuses you make for it, that so called magick is an abomination and we will stamp that bloody stuff out of him. You yourself agreed that you don't want him involved in that world—we don't want a _wizard_ in this family, especially not with what happened to your sister and brother-in-law!'

She didn't say anything for awhile, instead listening to the labored breath of Vernon and her own beating heart. Petunia was flattered at the lengths Vernon would go to protect her and even their son, but something dark tainted him when he spoke of Harry and even her sister. Despite how rocky Lily and Petunia's relationship had been especially with Lily being what she was, Petunia still loved her dearly departed sister. She was grateful that despite all the ugly they had had towards each other in the end, Lily had left her most prized son to her older sister. 'I know. I hate magick, I hate what it did to my sister's and my relationship, and I hate what it led to in regards to Lily and her husband. Please don't think ill of Harry though,' she begged. 'Harry doesn't know and he doesn't know how to control it.'

'I know, love. I know. We'll bloody well keep that magick out of him and of this house.'

Sighing, Petunia couldn't help but think, _'I don't know if we can.'_


	3. 2 Broken Storm

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 2 Broken Storm**

**About:** I know it might be a little weird to have chapters split between POVs, but part of it's to help the world building. There are things that have to be seen through Petunia and Harry. This is the last chapter involving Harry for Part I because the first part is going to focus on before Hogwarts. After Magick in the Air (which will be composed of eight chapters) is Part II Unfortunate Spell where the POV will mostly be Harry as the story is comes to focus on him. For those who are curious, most of these chapters focus at two points in the main character's lives—when they're eight and when they're ten/eleven just to show different parts of the wizarding world and when they receive their letters. Thank you! Hope you enjoy.

**Warning:** There is some swearing and an instance of Fornicating Under Carnal Knowledge (my apologies). Harry is very mature for his age and very knowledgeable because for him his whole world is books and knowledge because that is all that keeps him going. I know he seems a little too mature for his age, but it's amazing what abuse can do to a child.

* * *

Dudley stood at the end of the driveway carrying a large box and his backpack. He watched Harry struggle under the weight of his own box, filled to the brim with books, a smirk on his face. 'You got that alright?' Grunting in response, Harry shuffled over to his cousin who now stood a good deal taller than him. They stood outside their new home on Number 4 Privet Drive. It was a two-story white building with front and back yards and two leafy green trees providing shade; Harry stared longingly up at the second floor windows where his new bedroom was.

'You sure you're good?' Dudley asked bringing him back to reality.

'Yep. Got it.' Honestly, he felt exhausted. Many things had changed since two years before, Harry realized as he and Dudley went into the house through the kitchen entrance, heading for the upstairs.

Petunia had finally broken down and gotten a job with one of her friends at a flower shop and Vernon became manager at a new construction office owned by the company Grunning's. Because of the promotion and their newfound income, they move them into a new house with enough room for the four of them and close enough to both workplaces, though it did mean a transfer of schools. The only other thing that had drastically changed was the way Vernon treated Harry. Only Dudley had made comments about it at first, but slowly even his cousin had given up. It seemed to have begun shortly after the incident with the television, but Vernon would make comments about how fat Harry was getting, how stupid he was, or even how disgusting his strange scar was. Petunia seemed oblivious to the whole matter, and Harry knew better than to bring it up with her because of the rules. He had once or twice had a teacher comment on his weight being under average or that he looked sickly, but Harry had shrugged it off and they quickly forgot about him unless it was about academia. Even then, despite having high grades, the teachers never spoke to him and he was grateful for it.

Somehow, Harry kind of believed his uncle and it didn't help that Petunia had created a mandatory diet for the family due to Vernon's heart attack the year before. The only problem was, the Vernon rules had changed. Because of Harry being supposedly overweight, Vernon had taken him aside and threatened him; the rules had changed to Harry only eating half his meal, the rest be saved and eaten by his uncle on the sly with Petunia none the wiser. Harry doubted that it would work, but because of the rules, he went along with it. Life was easier to just comply. Even though Petunia had stopped him a few times to comment on how thin he looked or ask about the disappearing leftovers, she would seemingly forget or get caught up in something else.

'You miss the old place?'

Harry jumped as Dudley came up behind him, catching up just by the car. 'You scared me.'

Smirking, Dudley clapped his younger cousin on the back. 'Sorry, mate.'

Shaking his head, Harry heaved another box up. 'And no, not really. I mean, I was so fond of the spiders as bedmates and all.' Dudley snorted, which suited him. Unlike Harry, Dudley was bulky with buzz-cut blond hair and several inches taller. Harry, on the other hand, was too skinny and bony for his age with scraggly black hair and thick-framed glasses. They were a contrasting pair as one looked more like a sportsman and the other like a mad scientist.

Later that night, as Harry finally settled more of his stuff into their respective places, he flipped the light switch off and laid back on his bed, staring out at the night sky. Breathing in and out, Harry focused on the way the inhalation bled into an exhalation, wondering where one stopped and the other began. He tried hard to channel the anger and hatred that boiled in him. Some part of him ached for the faerie tale idea of a happy family and he fondly remembered the moments when Petunia wasn't so oblivious to him and the moments when Dudley would blindly defend him; however, they were growing up and Harry knew all-too-well that the world wasn't filled with 'Once upon a time'. His uncle had seen to that.

_I bloody hate this place and I hate this, _he thought, closing his eyes. _No matter how much I can try and handle this I can't._ Harry was used to the rules, but somehow it was growing unbearable. Every time Vernon made a comment or raised his fist, Harry wanted to retaliate. He wanted nothing more than to fight back or even vanish from sight. Sometimes he ached to simply disappear into nothing, but some nagging feeling tugged him back. Sighing, Harry rolled over preparing to sleep. He knew what it was that pulled him from the edge of his roiling hate and displeasure. Somehow he loved his only family.

* * *

'We have two new students in our class today, just transferred. Please welcome Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter.' The teacher made a welcoming motion as the cousins wandered into the room. As she began clapping for them, the other students followed suit like trained puppies at obedience school. Harry wished nothing more than to vanish, but instead tried to make himself seem smaller by tucking himself in and hunching his back. 'Alright then, there's a seat at the front, why don't you take that one Potter. Mister Dursley, please take the one by the window next to Mister Polkiss. Okay, then, please pull out your textbooks.'

Despite the teacher beginning her lecture, Harry could still hear students whispering back and forth as he and Dudley took their respective seats. Swinging into his seat he pulled out the text the principal had given them upon entry that morning, and stared numbly at the marked worn pages as he listened to the students.

'_Look_ at his scar!' a girl hissed to her neighbor. 'Wonder what happened? Think he got it in a fight or something?'

'Hideous, isn't it?' another muttered. 'Kind of a creepy guy, don't you think?'

Harry tried to flatten his shaggy hair, hoping to cover his bangs, but to no avail. Instead he turned his attention to the teacher as she called on students to answer questions. _It might be ugly or hideous, but it's all I have of that night_. He couldn't help but shiver, thinking of the fateful car crash that had ended his parents' lives, leaving him with a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Every day when he looked at himself in the mirror, it reminded him, too, that he had to keep going for them, though sometimes he wished he had followed his parents into the afterlife.

Lunch came all too quickly, most of them had taken their meals in the classroom. 'You're cousins, then?' asked the dark haired Polkiss boy, he sat with his back turned to Harry talking to Dudley. 'Can't tell, thank god. You two look nothing alike and bloody well, too. Looks like something the cat dragged in.' The boy guffawed and Harry, slid forward in his seat, trying hard to focus on his book and disappear.

'Harry's my mum's sister's,' Dudley replied, saying nothing to the other comments. 'Aunt Lily and her husband died in a car crash is all, so he's been living with us.'

That ended the discussion of Harry, but the other boy craned his neck, staring at the boys. _Piers Polkiss_, he thought, eyeing the weasel-faced boy,_ looks like trouble for me_. Sighing, Harry continued to wish himself invisible as he turned back to his book.

For the most part, the rest of school was a blur and Harry avoided any mishaps. Ignoring most of his peers' comments, he found himself walking home alone as Dudley had been invited to join some extracurriculars by their classmates. The school wasn't far from Privet Drive, another plus to the move, though it was strange to have to transfer schools so late into the year. Harry longed for the library, but didn't have to courage to find the school's, and he had yet to find if there was a neighborhood one close by. While he walked, Harry instead thought of the weekend and, lost in his thought, stumbled aimlessly down an alleyway—a shortcut that led home. He didn't notice he was being followed until Polkiss spun him around and slammed him into a dumpster.

Harry hit the metal so hard, he winced in pain, grabbing his shoulder. Glaring up at the boy, he gasped, 'What do you want, Polkiss?'

'I think you know,' the taller boy smirked, his face ugly. 'I'm sure you paid your dues at your old school, Potter. I mean, you got no parents and think that makes you all pitiful and the like? Think you deserve better?' Polkiss then motioned to two other boys from their class that Harry hadn't noticed. 'Watched you during class. Think you're smart too? Do you know how that makes people like us look?'

Harry felt the anger and hatred well up in him and snorted. 'Makes you look bloody stupid is what. Ever try reading a book or are you just better at being illiterate?' That earned him a punch right into his glasses. Everything stung as his glasses snapped and stabbed painfully into his face, his nose burned as blood coursed down his face and tears gushed from his eyes. He could barely see as he heard Polkiss's jacket rustle and he knew instantly that he was going to get punched again. Crying out in pain and desperation, fear swamping him, Harry felt a surge of power as he wished to get away and be somewhere safe and away from everything he hated. He instinctively threw his arms up to guard his face, but the punch never came.

It was like floating through water, or running sand through his fingers. He couldn't quite tell, but it was as though something had wrenched his being from the ground and was swirling him until suddenly he plopped in existence. Blinking through the tears, his face pounding with pain, Harry found himself in a darkened room, only a smidgen of light coming through a thin crack at the doorway. Gasping, he reached for the knob, fiercely jiggling it as he realized it was locked. Banging on the door he shouted, screaming for help. He didn't know how long he had done it for, just that his face ached and his throat burned.

Somehow Harry had found himself in his old cupboard under the stair.

* * *

Luckily the landlord was still cleaning and making repairs to the house, otherwise Harry would have been stuck there. As it was, the landlord had taken until Thursday off and had only come in the following morning to check up on the place. Imagine his surprise to find a starved and rancid smelling boy in the stairway closet. Despite the scare and confusion, the landlord had allowed Harry to wash off under the condition that the boy clean the cupboard with bleach water and loaned him a pair of overalls and an old jacket. It also meant that Harry had to call home and assure the Dursleys that he had neither been kidnapped nor run away, which of course was hard to explain.

As he came into the house, Dudley gave him a big hug, trying hard not to laugh. 'Mate, I knew you _liked_ the closet, I just didn't realize how much!' Harry smiled a little, muttering something about wanting to sleep as he stumbled up the stairs to his room. He locked the door behind him and curled up on the bed, smelling the fresh linens. His aunt had been relieved when he had called, but because of his missing, she decided to go to the school and police to discuss the matter, which had inevitably left Vernon to pick him up.

The landlord had been pretty calm about the whole matter after Harry made up some excuse about some bullies from the school pulling a prank on him, and had even told Vernon he as just glad that Harry had been found and advised him to take Harry to the hospital. Vernon, on the other hand, had waited until they were in the car. At first he had said nothing, instead his face turned various colours from red to nearly purple. Finally, he pulled off to the side of the road demanding Harry get out.

Weak and exhausted, Harry complied, stumbling outside. He barely remembered the conversation, the demands of exactly what had happened. All he remembered was when he finally told the truth, about Polkiss beating him up and then teleporting into the cupboard, his face again burned painfully as his uncle's fist made contact.

Harry felt crazed laughter bubbling tiredly within him as he thought about the whole affair. His face still stung and burned with pain, but somehow despite what he had thought when Polkiss initially hit him, somehow his glasses actually hadn't broken and neither had his nose. Instead all that Harry had was a healing scratch and a black eye. _Not to mention the bruises I now have from _him. Weak and utterly exhausted, Harry drifted off wondering how much longer he could endure everything.

* * *

They sat in the den each reading their own book, or attempting to. Petunia finally sat the book down, glancing hesitantly at the ceiling wondering if Harry and Dudley were asleep. She finally turned to Vernon. 'You _hit_ him?' she finally asked, though the question didn't require an answer.

Sighing, Vernon rolled his eyes and glanced at her. 'Why? That what the boy said?'

'He didn't say a thing. In fact, he just apologized and said it was his fault. He wouldn't tell me exactly what happened and he wouldn't let me touch him. I brought some food up, but he just asked me to leave and then locked the door behind me. What the hell happened!' Petunia couldn't help her voice rising at the end. She had been frantically looking for Harry ever since he disappeared that Monday afternoon. Even Dudley had been distressed about his cousin's missing, but Vernon had almost seemed happy, as though a heavy burden were finally gone. Sighing, in a tiny voice, she asked, 'Is it that bad having Harry?'

Vernon took a while to respond, the silence building, almost suffocating. 'Where would we send him and what would we tell people? We can take care of our own boy, but we can't take the spawn of another? I have no love for the child, don't get me wrong, but it seems a cruel thing to send him off to hurt some poor unsuspecting family. At least we know what we're in for.'

She couldn't find words as she sat in the silence. The warm strength that sometimes coiled up fought to break free and she shivered despite it. There was a hollow of cold evil that boiled in Vernon and she felt it only when he spoke of Harry. She could understand, but that aching warmth pleaded for her to do something, and just as suddenly it faded away in a fog. 'I understand,' she found herself saying, automatically. 'Was it an _accidental_?'

'Boy said he was being beaten by some kids from school and suddenly found himself in the cupboard. Don't know if I believe it or not. I mean, can their kind do that? Teleport or whatever it is? Terrifies me.'

'He turns eleven this July,' Petunia said instead of answering his question. 'The letters will start coming in June.' Clenching her eyes, she didn't realize she was crying until the tears streamed down her cheeks. 'What do we do, Vernon? What can we do?' He said nothing while she sat crying; they had discussed the matter before, and all they could conclude was that with no response the school would eventually give up. Some part of Petunia doubted in that, but with a rattling inhale, she turned to her husband with a hesitant smile. 'Well, since we can't do anything for a while, all we can do is take care of the now.'

'Right,' Vernon said nodding his head as he rubbed at his mustache. 'You hear from Dudley? He wants to join the wrestling team.'

* * *

Harry woke up bright and early on a Tuesday morning, the sun spilling in through the window. His heart was racing and he found himself in a cold sweat. As usual he couldn't quite remember the dream, but he found himself shaking. Glancing at the clock he groaned at the time as he fumbled for his glasses. It was barely six in the morning and he slowly found himself getting dressed for the day in ratty sneakers, baggy jeans, and a loose-fitting t-shirt. He went to the calendar and sighed. 'It's almost my birthday.' Bitterly, he grabbed his backpack and jacket from the floor.

Things in their new home seemed to have gone downhill causing Harry to lose sense of time. With every passing day since his mysterious disappearance, Vernon's distaste had escalated and somehow it affected the whole household. Petunia still treated him with some semblance of normality, but somehow she was skittish around him and prone to tearing up. Vernon, on the other hand, either ignored him for the most part unless something went wrong. Just that evening he had yelled at Harry for killing off the azaleas in the window before Petunia came home and told him they had had mites. Little things like that ate at Harry, filling the icy pit of hatred and anger he felt. If that were not enough, Dudley had a new friend.

_Polkiss_, Harry thought tiredly, checking his bag to make sure he had the books he wanted. _I think Dudley invited him over today._

Heading downstairs, Harry was surprised to find Petunia already up in her cotton robe making coffee as he entered the kitchen. 'Are you off somewhere?' Petunia asked, ruffling his hair. She turned and began pulling out eggs and bacon from the fridge and turning the stove on under the skillet. 'At least have breakfast before you go.'

Giving a hesitant smile, Harry tried not to look at his aunt. He took a seat on the bar stool at the counter, setting his stuff on the floor. He had once tried to talk to her about Polkiss beating him up, and how Dudley was changing, but she had simply insisted that Polkiss seemed like a nice enough boy, and that maybe Harry was just jealous of how much attention Dudley was paying to Polkiss instead of to him. While he waited and ate breakfast, Petunia and he talked mostly about mundane things such as where was he going and to be back before dinnertime and whether he needed money for lunch. Harry tried to respond as normally as possible, finding himself glancing worriedly at the clock. _I know Polkiss probably won't come until afternoon, but better safe than sorry._

* * *

The park was a couple miles wide covered in trees and with a small pond in the center. Already a few joggers and walkers were using the walkways, but for the most part the place was empty. Picking a large willow, the grass barely damp from the morning, Harry sat down beneath it and began to read halfheartedly from a book.

_Uncle's been acting particularly strange lately. It's been going on all week._ Harry thought about how he had tried to get the mail. When he had gotten back in the house, Vernon had cornered him, grabbing him by the ear, and threatening to ground him if he ever got it again. Allowing himself to sink into his book, the day wore on warming nicely until he was sleepy. After a short break to get something from a nearby store, he found himself back at the willow, relaxing against its trunk.

It was strange, but Harry began to feel the warmth and energy from the tree as he grew sleepier and sleepier. It was as though the willow had a mind of its own, reaching out and gently curling into Harry's own mind and energy. Before he knew it, Harry had fallen asleep waking groggily as the sun was beginning to set, he found his hand gently grasping one of the tree's roots. Surprised Harry felt groggy and like he had gotten too much sun, and at the same time deeply rested and refreshed. He could barely believe how long he must have slept for, a crick in his neck. Sighing, he straightened up, putting his book back into his bag. _Maybe I'll stop by the store again for some water before I head home_, he thought. Suddenly there was a loud hoot and a large great-horned owl came sweeping down from the tree's branches. Surprised, Harry stared in awe at the yellow-eyed bird who perched awkwardly on the ground before him. Unsure of what do, he was surprised when the owl pecked at him and waving his wings showed a leather tube attached to his leg.

'Uh, a-are you here for me, then?' Harry asked uncertainly, looking around to see if anyone saw him speaking to a bird. He felt awkward in the dimming daylight, but the owl gave a hoot as if in response. 'Okay, then. H-Hold on.' Reaching out, Harry pulled open the tube, careful not to prod the bird too much, and extracted a yellowed scroll complete with wax seal. He had heard of messenger pigeons, but never messenger owls. Before he realized it, the owl suddenly flapped its large wings as if to shoo Harry away and took flight, his delivery complete.

'How odd,' Harry muttered. The parchment further surprised him because in emerald green in were the words:

Mister Harry Potter | #4 Privet Drive | Little Whinging | Surrey

_Well, that certainly is me, but how would the bird know?_ He looked up as if expecting to see the bird watching him, but of course the owl was long gone. Turning back to the scroll he carefully peeled at the wax seal and within he found another piece of yellowed parchment with a peculiar letterhead:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Assistant Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

'Bloody hell,' Harry heard himself mutter. The whole things was strange and he was beginning to feel like the butt of a really bad joke. He rolled his eyes glancing around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. People were still mulling about the park, some as couples hand-in-hand. Leaning against the support of the tree, Harry found himself reading further. Despite the inclination to toss the joke of a letter, the compulsion to read further was stronger.

Dear Mister Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to our school of witchcraft and wizardry. Your name is in our registry already due to your parents' wills, but we require your personal signature to ensure you have received this letter. Along with this sheet are two pieces of parchment and information for catching the school train. One of which requires your signature and is spelled, so we will know if it has been signed. The other is a list of required school supplies.

If the signature sheet has not been signed by July 31, a representative from the school will come to your home and request an audience with your current guardians.

The start of term is September 1st.

Yours sincerely,

Professor of Transfiguration & Assistant Headmistress

_Minerva McGonagall_

Snorting, Harry couldn't help but start laughing. It was obviously an elaborate joke or some scheme. The whole thing was too brilliant for Polkiss, but Harry wouldn't put it past another of his classmates. But then, something ached in him as his laughter died. Harry read the letter again, pausing at each fantastical word, letting it soak into him. The wind suddenly gusted through and a twig from the tree landed on the paper surprising Harry; the twig was pointed like a pencil as if the tree were telling Harry to sign the bizarre letter. Sighing, Harry rose, dusting himself off. He eyed the tree wearily muttering, 'Even if it were true, I don't dare believe in magick.' The tree said nothing of course, but Harry found himself tucking the twig into his bag with the letter, and for some reason he bowed to the old willow a silent trembling of energy seeming to pass between them as he turned for home.

* * *

'Mrs. Figgs will watch the boy,' Vernon said, sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of brandy on the rocks. Petunia was still preparing dinner, glancing at the clock as she wondered where Harry was. 'Dudley and Polkiss said they want to have a day at the zoo if possible. It's his birthday after all.'

'I know that, but it just seems strange.' Petunia found herself craning her neck, looking out at the walkway for any sign of her nephew. Sighing she turned to her husband. 'Dudley and Harry used to always celebrate together since their birthdays are only a month apart. Why the sudden change?'

Shrugging, Vernon took a sip from his drink. 'Let it go. Boy's growing up is all and wants some independence. Besides, part of it was because of the money situation. It was easier to just celebrate the two of them all at once. Now we might as well let them break from each other for a bit. It's good for Dudley to be spending time with that Polkiss I think. He seemed all-too-happy to go spend the night tonight.'

Grabbing plates and slowly setting the table, the ticking of the clock reminded Petunia that Harry had been gone since very early that morning. She wondered if something had happened or maybe he had vanished yet again. Some part of her feared him being found by _them_—but that was absurd. There was no reason for Lily's world to hound them not since the Dursleys were Harry's guardians. 'Did another letter come for him today?' she glanced at her husband, hoping.

'Surprisingly no. I think the lot have finally gotten the message.' There was a pause though as Vernon set his glass carefully on the table. 'But, letter or no, what will happen with the boy? Obviously the magick isn't out of him just because the school stopped trying. It's not just going to dry up because he doesn't go, is it?'

About to reply, the door slamming scared Petunia so badly she dropped a plate. It shattered when it hit the ground, scattering on the kitchen floor. Harry shuffled into the kitchen, his face unreadable. 'Harry! You startled me. Why don't you wash up for dinner?' Reaching for the dustpan, she realized that Harry hadn't moved.

'Your aunt told you to do something!' Vernon said gruffly, sipping again, but as he went to set the drink down the glass flew from his hand and smashed against the opposite wall. Surprised, Vernon glanced from his hand to the wall, then to Harry. Petunia, too, found herself wide-eyed watching her nephew.

Harry finally muttered, voice icily calm, 'It's true then. Magick and the like.' He gave a twisted smirk he snorted. 'Well, seems like you two will be wanting a chat with me then.' With that Harry turned and left the kitchen and Petunia, finally remembering to breathe, glanced at Vernon, trembling.

'What have we done,' she found herself saying, a quiver of fear in her voice. Again like a suffocating wave of heat, the desire to comfort and protect Harry reared up making Petunia gasp. Vernon at this point had risen from his seat and gone to her, cradling her in his arms. The feeling was just as suddenly ripped from her leaving her confused. _Why do I feel like I'm being drained or changed?_ she wondered as Vernon and she slowly made their way to the living room where Harry sat on the couch, staring at his feet. _What has happened to me? To us?_

As she and Vernon sat in their respective chairs, Petunia leaned forward trying to make eye contact with Harry. 'Honey, there's much, _much_ we haven't told you. We were doing it to protect you. Please understand that.'

'Your lot is dangerous. Imagine having inhuman power to change and warp the nature of things?' Vernon piped in. 'Look at what happened to your parents.'

Eyes wide, Petunia whirled on her husband, but too late. She could feel the change in the room as if all the heat was being sucked out of it. Cautiously, she watched as the couch slowly became frost covered, her breath coming out steamy white. 'Harry, you must calm down. Just let us explain.' Before anything more was said, though, a thunderous boom came at the door.

Vernon shot up, obviously relieved. 'I'd better get that.'

* * *

Harry didn't know how to reel in the storm that was brewing. All he felt was cold anger and bitterness surround him as he tried to follow everything. It was like the carefully constructed world he had built since living with the Dursley family was coming to an end in crumbling chunks. He barely noticed when Petunia cautiously came over to him as Vernon went to answer the door. She hesitantly placed her hand on his lap, wide brown eyes pleading.

'Honey, please listen to me,' she said, tears slowly creeping out the corners of her eyes. 'Every lie, everything we never told you was to try and keep you safe. I wish you could understand, and I wish I could explain it better, but…'

Before she got another word out, though, Vernon started shouting, 'GET OUT OF HERE! What the hell do you think you're doing!' and gasped as something or someone knocked him out of the way. Moving defensively in front of Harry, Petunia stood, shaking.

Looking up, Harry almost gasped as a huge lumbering man came stomping into the house, the floor vibrating with each step he took. The man looked to be well over seven feet in height and was about three grown men wide; somehow, despite his girth, he had squeezed into the living area followed hesitantly by an enraged Vernon. Despite the severity of the situation, Harry couldn't help but feel a triumphant yet sickening course of glee at the ruffled look of his uncle. Finally his uncle had found something he couldn't beat into submission.

'Sorry 'bout this,' the man spoke, his voice gruff and crackled. Wiry black hair was knotted in dreads of leather, feathers, and beads that streamed down the man's broad shoulders to his mid-back; the same hair covered most of the man's face in a bristled beard leaving only a ruddy nose, bright pink cheeks, and cheery brown eyes exposed. 'Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, ma'am and sir.' He lifted a hand to Petunia, who placed her hand on Harry's shoulder.

He wanted to pull away from her, but something about the contact, made him blink up at Petunia and for the first time he felt the horrendous storm starting to abate. Harry watched his aunt square her shoulders, obviously scared both of the magick that still boiled in him and of the giant-man who had barged into their home unannounced. 'Well, Mister Hagrid. Now really is not a good time to come into our home without invitation. Who _are_ you and _what_ are you doing here?' she snapped. Vernon slowly edged towards them, obviously shaken from the giant knocking him out of the way earlier.

Rubbing the back of his head, the leather jacket he wore creaking as he moved, Rubeus sheepishly chuckled. 'My bad really ma'am, but I have me orders an' I was told to come an' speak to you lot no matter what about what concerns Mister Potter.' Glancing at Harry who sat on the couch, his face unmoving as he tried his hardest to quell the cold that gnawed at him, wanting nothing more than to shatter and hail into Vernon; as if sensing the danger he was potentially in, Vernon stopped cold, his face pale as his eyes darted between Hagrid and Harry.

'And what concerns my nephew?' Petunia asked.

Pausing, Hagrid nodded to Harry. 'This 'im then? Last I saw of 'im he was a babe. Actually, I was the one who brought him to your doorstep!' he said this proudly, making Harry flinch.

'You brought me here?' Harry asked, his heart feeling sickened. Because of this stranger, he had come to live with the Dursleys. It itched and burned at him that at the whim of this person, he had been sentenced to Vernon—to being beaten and threatened—to a torment that made him ache to join his parents. 'You brought me to them! To _him_!' Standing, he bumped into his aunt, who, wide-eyed, slowly backed away. The frost, which had once melted on the couch, crystallized formed ice chunks that slowly stretched from the plush cushions to the hardwood floor.

There was silence except for the crackle of ice as it grew and spread. Vernon, too found himself edging away from Harry. 'Stop!' Harry snapped, a picture frame beside his uncle flying and nearly hitting the man in the head as it clattered to the floor. He glanced at his aunt and the giant man. 'You will all explain to me what the _fuck_ is going on.' Some part of him was breaking, he realized as he took his seat among the ice. The careful control he had built up over his emotions was snapping. As he watched his aunt slide into a chair, tears down her face, Harry saw something peculiar. It was like watching paint swirl as a fiery red aura blazed from her chest, but the light was quickly cut out by a dark circle, like a fire being stamped out. Ignoring it, he asked, 'Would you tell me what happened to my parents?'

Nodding, Petunia glanced at Hagrid, and her husband who stood shaking. 'W-We told you that they died in a car crash…'

'WHAT!' Hagrid snapped, his voice a roar. 'A car crash kill the Potters! You lot surely could have come with something better, something that painted the truth more like! Lily and James were bloody heroes and you lot better know it! Harry the biggest hero among the Potters!'

Clenching her eyes, Petunia said in a growling voice, surprising Harry, 'You will keep your words to yourself, Rubeus Hagrid. I remember who you are, now, from Lily, and I know you were friends of their family during the Dark War, but you will stay your tongue as this is a family affair and nothing of yours. I will tell _my_ nephew the truth as it is _my_ sin to bear, and you _will_ give me the decency to keep your mouth shut until your opinion is needed.' Turning on Harry, the boy was surprised at the regret and pain he saw in his aunt's face.

'Harry, your parents _were_ heroes, and this man was right that we did them no justice saying they died in a car crash. They were a part of something that was horrible and hideous, something that even you were unknowingly a part of. When we were growing up, there was a war going on and slowly Lily became a part of that; she called it the Dark War, a war against a wizard so powerfully warped by the magick he possessed that it dared to shake the foundations of Lily's world and our world apart. During that time, there were stories of people vanishing, strange diseases, deaths—it was horrible growing up under that, but worst of all was realizing how powerless I was against something like that. My sister, my sweet little sister joined in that war with your father, Harry,' by this time Petunia was crying and Harry was hanging on to every word she said. 'The worst part was realizing with every year and moment she was involved was one step closer to her dying and I couldn't handle it—not with our parents dying on us when I was sixteen and me left to take care of her.

'I stopped speaking with her for a time, and the last piece of mail I received from her was to tell me that she and Potter had a child—you. A year passed and before I knew it, we found you on the doorstep with nothing but a _letter_ giving a vague depiction of what had happened.' She turned glaring at Hagrid who shame-faced stared at the ground. 'All it said was that my _sister_ and her husband had died leaving you to my care. THAT was all it said. If it hadn't been for the bank releasing her will to me, I never would have _known_ half of her life in that God awful war.' Petunia turned to Harry, hesitantly. 'I didn't want that for you. That darkness, the twisted magick. Instead, your uncle and I discussed it and wanted to keep it from you. I saw how it changed my sister and inevitably that magick led to her death.'

There was silence as Harry tried to swallow everything. The ice had stopped it's growth, leaving him in almost a throne-like seat of chilled crystal. All his eleven years he had strongly believed that magick was wrong, but some part of him had craved it. Glancing at what was around him, he snorted. Magick was all-too real now. 'And what has your hiding and lying done for me,' he found himself numbly saying, his emotions too far away for him to understand. Looking between his aunt and Vernon, he gave a smile, obviously darker than he realized as he watched his aunt flinch.

'Ye lot were right,' Hagrid began, making Harry jump. The man had been silent since Petunia blew up on him. 'I shouldn't have jumped in like that.' Frowning, he looked at Harry. 'I'm afraid though, that things aren't so cut an' dry. Ye can't just stop magick. It's part of a wizard's bein' an' Harry's a powerful wizard.' He nodded at the boy as if that were explanation enough.

'Bloody hell we can't!' snapped Vernon, which was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly he gasped as ice snared his feet, and Harry let out a chilling laugh. Even Hagrid look taken aback at Harry's reaction.

'_You_,' Harry hissed, '_will say nothing.'_ There was true terror in not only his uncle's eyes, but he saw even in Hagrid, whose jaw had dropped.

The power Harry felt from his anger and hatred was intoxicating. He watched his uncle's terror with pleasure, but it wasn't until Petunia collapsed to her knees sobbing, begging that he realized just what he was doing. 'Harry, please stop this! We were wrong.' Her body shook with tears as she looked at him, her arms wrapped about herself. '_I_ was wrong.' Just with that the ice shattered, melting into puddles on the floor, making Vernon stagger to his knees.

Harry rose from his seat, numbly focusing on Hagrid. 'You're from that school, yes?'

Dumbfounded, the man nodded, hesitantly. 'That I am. Groundskeeper there. Dumbledore, the headmaster, sent me here to check on you since it seemed you weren't getting your letters.'

Clenching his eyes, exhausted, Harry turned to his aunt. 'If only you hadn't tried so hard to _beat_ the magick from me. I can't do this anymore.' He found his own face was wet with tears and he bitterly turned to Vernon. 'I never want to see your _disgusting_ face again. I see you already in my nightmares.' Looking at Hagrid, he sighed. 'Can you take me from here? I'm afraid if you don't, I'll kill them.'

His face going white, Hagrid nodded. 'I can do that for ye. We'll 'ave to make a stop in London before I can take ye to the school, but I'm sure things will work out. Dumbledore's a nice man.'

Petunia whispered an, 'I'm sorry,' as Harry left the room and Number 4 Privet Drive that Tuesday evening with Hagrid to a world that seemed more hopeful than the storm that raged in his heart.


	4. 3 Tides of Magick

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 3 Tides of Magick**

**About:** Draco comes from a dark wizard family, but what exactly does that mean?

* * *

Resin clung to his fingers and he knew it was inevitably matted in his hair as he leaned against the pine in the lazy summer heat; the forest had beckoned to him and the boy had more than eagerly obliged. Despite it being midday, the forest was dark letting little light in having carved the area with its feral magick, which rose up in taunting purple and silver auras when the boy focused. Draco watched lazily as faerie lights flickered through branches and undergrowth, taunting whatever wild creatures prowled the mast. He relaxed his mind letting his own silvery aura meld with that of the tree's, whose limbs ached and scratched with old magick that practically dripped from the blue-green needles.

Sighing, Draco realized he had better climb down before his mother sent after him. Turning to face the trunk of the tree, he slowly climbed down until he dropped to the ground below. Bowing to the tree, the boy kissed its rough bark mumbling a thank you, and headed back for the mansion. Despite a wild terror that clung to him in the darkness of the magick forest, he was relieved to be walking through its bowels hearing nothing but the song of birds and nymphs. As he reached the clearing of the mansion, he stared in awe of the marble building. It rose above the green lawn in brilliant white marble, and still yet was driven three floors below ground.

He entered through a wooden gate into the back lawn where he wearily eyed birds that pecked the grounds. They were his father's prized peacocks, both male and female a sickly white with ghostly blue eyes. Draco shivered as he went into the house through the servant's entrance. They were known as Haunt Peacocks and were used in rituals for the dead. The birds themselves were born without souls, hatched over graveyard soil, and were vessels for the departed on nights such as Halloween and Walpurgis. Only once had Draco seen them used, and he never wanted to see it again.

Closing the door behind him, he was gratefully for the lazy chill of the manor, and headed for the upper level to where his mother would be inevitably waiting for him in her study. _I wonder how she's doing today._

* * *

Narcissa felt the cough scrape at her lungs as her breath came out ragged and worn. She stared, frustrated, out the window, sighing. The woman longed to go outside to feel the warmth of the sun on her face and revel in its energy, but instead she found herself curled in blankets at the hearth waiting to take her second potion of the day. Somehow she had caught pneumonia and much to hers and her husband's distress, the blasted disease was twisted with magick. Whoever had sent the disease knew what they were doing, that was for certain.

_Surely not one of the light wizards_, she mused, turning her attention to a book on curses, lazily eyeing one that made leprosy look like child's play. The Black family she was born from had passed the book on generation to generation, a combination of curses and spells invented by them. The book had been passed to her by her older sister Andromeda when the woman fled their home to marry a _muggle_. _Not that Andy was much for curses being soft-hearted as she was_.

Toying with the ends of her silken blonde hair, the woman smiled when she felt a ring on her hand warm. 'Draco,' she said as her son came into the room. The ring had been enchanted with a hair from her son, telling her when he was near or if he was in need. Turning, she stared at him and sighed. 'You've been out in the wood again.' Without saying a word, she pointed at him and his hair straightened and the resin from his hair and clothes pooled into a sticky ball, floating to Narcissa's outstretched hand; she flung the ball into the hearth fire breathing deep the smell of pine and tingling magick.

'Thanks, Mama,' he said, a smile tucked in his cheeks. 'Are you feeling better?'

Narcissa held out her hand, and he came to take it, his fingers warm and smooth on her own. She reached out and touched his cheek, a mother's fondness burning within her. 'Yes, dearest one. Did you at least study some before heading out today?' He nodded to her solemnly. 'Good, then. Will you recite for me?' She nodded over to a chair, which the boy went and brought over to her. He sat on the end, his back straight and hands in his lap as he prepared.

* * *

Draco loved his mother, who always took him at his own pace. He took after her in looks; she was thin with peach skin, rosy from her sickness, eyes of shadowed grey, and blonde hair the colour of starlight. Taking a deep breath he began to recite the dress code for alliance meetings. 'When attending an alliance meeting involving purebloods, it is best to ally yourself by wearing the colour of the house to which you are allied most to. For example, during the winter solstice when Father and you attended the Minister's party the two of you wore red. Father chose a silver suit beneath his red robes showing steadfastness to his beliefs. You, Mother, wore a brocade gown coming to the ankle, which you had tied anklets, also of silver. To your gown you tied a belt of unicorn hair dyed silver not only to show steadfastness, but to emphasize purity in your ideals. Not only that but silver is the colour of the Malfoy coat of arms.'

He waited for Narcissa to nod. Smiling she asked, 'And what of my ties to the Black family to which I was born?'

Relieved that he had gotten so much right he sighed. 'The unicorn hair. Unicorns are part of the pull and tide of the moon which is guardian of women, which makes them a sign of the Black family. The noblest family tied to the stars.' Nodding at her son, Narcissa gave a smile for him to continue. 'Then, the red is the colour of the Fudge's family coat of arms, correct?' Draco wasn't sure since Fudge wasn't quite as pureblood as his own family. Usually only purebloods cared for such things, but Draco was pretty sure that Fudge was not the name of someone from a distinguished house.

'I can tell what's going through your head,' Narcissa said, a chuckle escaping her. 'Fudge is indeed pureblood, but his family is allied to light magick. Where we stuck to our original names, many light families changed their surnames. But you are right that red is the colour of Fudge's coat of arms. It's a tribute to Gryffindor, actually, despite the fact he is not a descendant from the Hogwart's founder.'

Curious, Draco asked, 'But, then why did you ally yourself with him? We are a dark family.'

'Ah, that is also what bothers you. Politics are difficult,' Narcissa muttered, with a sigh. She pointed to the curse book she held out. 'For example, this sickness was caused by someone who is not quite allied with the Malfoy family. Understand?' Draco nodded, numbed at the idea that someone would hurt his mother. 'The only way to show the caster I am not one to trifle with is to do something just as subtle to him or her.' She turned, her face alight with cunning knowledge and joy at the challenge. 'Don't worry. I know who cast this on me and most likely it's just part of the dance. In this case, what would be a good curse? Should I hurt her or her children? Should I make her sick or lame her? Can you distinguish what is right from wrong?'

Wearily, Draco thought about it. He hated that his mother was sick, but surely that didn't warrant whoever had caused it to suffer worse. 'You cast something untraceable. As you said, you knew who cast this spell, which means they weren't as careful. Whatever you cast will be obvious in that it was Malfoy,' he hesitated, 'or Black in nature and lasting, but not necessarily harming.'

Beaming at him, Narcissa nodded fondly. 'Very good, my love. Very good.'

'Thanks, Mama. So why _did_ you ally yourself with Minister Fudge, then?'

'That is because the minister was working on denying a bill,' came the icy voice of his father. Whirling in his seat, Draco was surprised to see Lucius leaning against the doorway in a loose white dress shirt and tight leather pants snug in buckled boots. 'Draco, one day you will understand that politics and people are not so black and white.' He gave his son a feral smile at the irony in his attire and words. 'As it is, please leave us, my son. Crabbe and Goyle are downstairs. I ask that you spend some time with them as your mother and I have something to discuss. We will continue this conversation about politics another time.'

Draco nodded, glancing at his mother who smiled in response. He swallowed, bowing to his father, and left the room feeling shut out as his father closed the door behind him.

* * *

Narcissa stared at her husband, calculating what was running through the man's mind. They had married as an alliance between the Black and Malfoy families, but both of the subtly admired the other for their cunning and ability to dance through politics. 'You bear news,' she finally said, her voice cold.

Nodding, her husband took the seat that Draco had left, leaning until he could grab her hand which he pulled into his, running his fingers along the lines of her palm making her shiver. There was a tinge of icy magick to his touch, burning into her. The feral blue of his eyes met hers, a spark making her weary yet craving the power that was woven into the Malfoy blood. 'Tonight is a dinner thrown by Parkinson.' There it was, the joke that her husband had longed to share. Narcissa couldn't help but smile. 'I had a feeling you would want to join me.'

'I have the perfect gift for them, then.' She glanced at the Black book and nodded. 'Our son is learning quickly.'

'I overheard,' Lucius whispered, bring her hand to his lips. 'He will be worthy of the Malfoy blood.' Pausing, he gently nibbled at her palm, teasing. 'And that of Black.'

_You tempt me_, she thought giving nothing away as he teased her. Narcissa toyed with the blankets as she curled her fingers to his lips. 'Strength and family loyalty. It will be interesting to see their faces. Did they send the invitation?' she asked, as Lucius released her hand.

Rising, he leaned into the chair, pulling her chin to him. The swirl of blue was deep as the ocean, lust swirling in their depths. 'Let's just say, I pointed out that hastiness was perhaps not the smartest. Parkinson assured me he would back out between you and his wife; however, that we, perhaps, after your play, consider an alliance. Parkinson hinted that he did not want certain things from the war to reach his daughter's ears.' With that he kissed his wife, and the woman felt heady between the medicine, sickness, and warmth that filled her.

'Playing dirty then?' she whispered.

Smiling, pulling away, Lucius replied, 'Of course they don't know I would never go after children. Not since my blood oath to you when you conceived.' Some part of his eyes deadened, and she knew he was remembering the war and things he regretted, but did for his family name and to protect what he and she had created.

'Well, then,' Narcissa said, drinking the potion and feeling its effects seeping into her, chasing the magicked disease from her lungs. 'I had best get started.'

* * *

Draco would never tell his mother the secret that he kept from both his parents, but he relished seeing Crabbe and Goyle. His father had told him to always refer to the two by their last names, it paved a certain level of hierarchy that he was not to discuss amongst the two; however, what he didn't tell his father was it was unnecessary. Draco had indeed inherited the magick from the Malfoy bloodline, all he had to do was focus and the heady magick would leap to his eyes, changing them from his mother's grey, to his father's stormy blue. It was a subtle casting of empathy magick that he used to follow the moods of Crabbe and Goyle if they ever got upset. To him, it was a better way to keep a friendship than forcing them into submission by family name or degrading them. He never told his father they called him Malfoy in turn.

'You look high,' Goyle said when Draco met them in the first floor den, the boy was sprawled on the couch lazily staring about the room, which was carved mahogany with sparse furnishings and few plants tucked against the wall-length windows. 'Went to the forest did you?'

_He's bored_, Draco thought, with a smirk. 'Bring your brooms or not?' he asked, ignoring the tug of gaping boredom that belonged to Goyle.

Crabbe snickered, as he raked his fingers through his gelled black hair. 'Game of bluggers, is it?' There was a glint to his eye as he nodded at Draco.

_Crabbe is pent up. Something happened_, Draco realized, hesitating. The other two were unfortunately bigger than Draco, who was lean and swift versus muscular and brawny. If they were to play bluggers, there was the chance that he would get hurt should the weighted magicked balls smack into him. Shaking the fear off, he grinned. 'Is there anything else?'

Truth be told he liked the rush of fear, and as much as his father questioned his ability for politics, he was coming along rather well despite his age. He knew that if he were injured in front of his friends, they wouldn't hesitate to tell their parents, which would in turn make Narcissa and Lucius look weak; however, as Draco and the other boys headed out for the field, he couldn't help but feel a sinking loneliness. He often wondered what it would be like not having to worry and just have fun; he had once talked to Goyle about it, as the boy was the most pensive of the three and the least likely to use his concerns against him, and the boy, too, had confided that struggling with minding their manners and remembering the customs was sometimes too much, sometimes it seemed easier to just give in to being a child.


	5. 4 Shining Stars

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 4 Shining Stars**

**About:** I really wanted to play with the idea that there's more to purebloods (or some purebloods) than meets the eye.

* * *

'It's an owl, dear,' Lucius sat on the far end of the dining table, his attention mainly focused on the paper he held, _International Business, Trade, and Magick_.

Narcissa nodded, rising to an alabaster statue of a coiled serpent on the mantle which was glowing a faint green. Placing her hand on it, she let the magick of the Malfoy wards fill into her being, she could sense the forest with its ancient magick that surrounded their house, and she felt the patient hovering of an owl. Focusing, she felt outward testing the owl's magickal signature before bending the wards to let the bird in. Releasing her hold on the statue, she gently rubbed the ring she had connecting her to Draco. 'It's from Hogwarts,' she said, about to head out of the dining hall to fetch her son.

'Let Dobby get him.' Her husband carefully set the paper down, glancing at the window which the owl flew into and, much like a bubble, popped through as though it were nothing. The windows had been a creation of Lucius's grandfather and much of the reason the Malfoy family would never fear being in debt. 'I have something I need to speak to you about concerning another message that I received before you woke.'

Nodding, Narcissa snapped her fingers and with a pop a tiny humanoid creature appeared in front of her wearing a gritty wrap about its purplish skin. His bulbous watery eyes stared hesitantly up at her as he sniffed. 'Yes, Mistress?' His voice was high-pitched and squeaky. 'You summoned for Dobby?'

Raising an eyebrow, Narcissa took careful stock of the house elf with his long pointed ears and crusted face. 'First, would you fetch my son from the woods? Something has arrived for him. Lastly, please take a bath, Dobby, and send for your aunt.'

She watched as the elf winced. 'M-My aunt, Mistress? A-Are you certain about this?' Flushing he bowed. 'Not to be disrespectful.'

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, I believe Dalia will be required for a time, and she helps ensure you care for yourself.'

'As you wish, Mistress. I shall go fetch Young Master first then.' With that the elf popped out of existence leaving Lucius and Narcissa alone.

Lucius snorted. 'I see you already know the kind of news that I bear then. As usual, you are a pleasure, dear. Care to share how you found out?' Rising, he came over to her, pressing his body to her and wrapping Narcissa in his arms. 'Or should I try and guess?'

Cocking her head, Narcissa gave a teasing smile, bringing her fingers to under his chin, tickling it. 'Little mysteries in your life will make every second more interesting. Besides, you know I will never use what I learn against you, dear.' She leaned forward and kissed him, gently. 'As it is, you'll be late if you don't leave soon.'

Cupping her face in his smooth hands Lucius leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. 'Already packed, my dear. And of course I wouldn't trade you for anything. You are an enchanting delight.'

* * *

He had found the faerie circle sometime the prior day in the depths of the forest marked by toadstools. Draco sat cross-legged outside of it, watching as the aura in the circle shifted and changed; the aura molded in greens and teals suggesting that the faeries were earth-based. Smiling, he pulled out amulets of rosewood setting them outside of the circle. Focusing, he allowed his mind to wander further until he could see the faeries gaining tangible form. There were only three of them—two flowers spirits and a dryad of oak.

_It's enough,_ he thought. Draco could tell that his eyes had changed colour as the Malfoy blood in him swelled. The earth faeries responded to the empathy that ebbed off him, seeking the strange aura that called to them. Smirking, he began to mutter a chant, slowly pulling out a dagger, he sliced his hand over the amulets letting the blood poor over three of them. 'I contain and bind you in the name of the sea and the name of the stars.' The circle of toadstools began to fade away as the spirits were sealed into the amulets. As they were sealed, the blood shifted into runes, marking them. Sighing as the magick and swirling auras faded away, Draco carefully wrapped his hand with a bandage.

Rising to dust off the grass that had collected on his spider silk tunic, Draco stooped to grab the amulets and tucked the dagger into his boot sheath, pleased with himself. He had read about the sealing magick in one of the Black family books, and figured combining the powers inherent of a Malfoy would make the process easier. Smirking, he turned to head home but was stopped by a popping sound and the appearance of Dobby, the family's house elf. Bowing until his bulbous nose nearly touched the ground, the elf rose with a pleading look. 'Young Master Malfoy, your mother wishes to see you.'

Surprised, Draco frowned. 'Did she mention why?'

'Something about an arrival, Young Sir. Certainly I can teleport you there if Young Master wishes.'

Sighing, Draco shook his head, running his fingers through his platinum hair. 'No, I will walk. You're message is passed.' Walking past the elf, trying to ignore him, the boy headed for the manor curious why his mother was calling for him. _Perhaps she knows what I've done?_ he thought as he walked through the forest, slipping the amulets into his pocket.

* * *

The door to her workroom creaked open almost an hour later and Narcissa looked up from her potion making, relieved her son had come to her after the brewing had finished. 'I was beginning to wonder if Dobby had gotten sidetracked again.' She breathed deep the magick that radiated off her son; it was refreshing like laying out in a field on a moonlit night. 'You smell of earth and stars, Draco. What have you been doing?' Shaking her head with a wry smile, she muttered, 'Oh, never mind. It's no matter.'

Draco nodded, keeping his hands tucked behind his sleeveless tunic, his face unreadable. 'Yes, Mother. By the way, Dobby mentioned something having arrived for me?'

Narcissa, motioned to a scroll on her worktable, which her son grabbed tentatively with a bandaged hand. Raising an eyebrow, she said nothing as he opened the letter watching as familiar rolls of yellowed paper pulled free. She knew what the familiar emerald ink would say, but still took warm comfort in seeing her son receive his first Hogwarts letter. Narcissa warmed watching her son's grey eyes light at his obvious acceptance to the school his forefathers had gone to for generations.

Removing her dragon hide gloves, she went over and kissed her son on the forehead, running her fingers through his soft hair. 'I'm glad to see you happy, Draco,' she whispered. Pulling away, she smiled warmly at him and received the same smile in return. Gently she tapped his nose with a finger. 'When would you like to fetch your supplies?' Narcissa had long awaited the day she could take her son for his first school things. Despite the tutors and teachings she had paid for Draco to go through, she strongly hoped that Hogwarts would give him a normal childhood. Most of Draco's contact with children his own age had been political and some part of her ached for him to find someone who genuinely would defend and care for him as a friend.

'Why not that Wednesday you have to pick up Father's order?' he suggested. 'It would save time.'

Smiling, she nodded. 'Very well, and very thoughtful of you. Oh, I forgot to mention, your father has been called away for business. He will be in Japan until the middle of August. I'm sorry, but he couldn't say goodbye before leaving; however, he told me tell you congratulations on your letter.' Draco simply nodded with only a flash of disappointment in his stormy eyes, and went back to reading through his letter, a casual smile on his face.

_I wonder my son what schemes you have started,_ Narcissa thought mildly as she eyed his bandaged hand. _You are brilliant, but still have much to learn in the sea of secrets we must tell._


	6. 5 Calm Understanding

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 5 Calm Understanding**

**About:** What's it like to be a _muggle_-born and have magick especially when you're a genius?

* * *

'Granger.' The woman at the desk stepped forward as the girl hesitantly set foot in the main office. 'The headmistress is ready for you,' the secretary said with a smile on her face as she motioned the girl towards a mahogany door, nudging her forward before closing it quietly behind her.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione quickly took stock of the headmistress's office. It was extremely orderly and cozy; books were kept tidily on their shelves, papers in neat stacks about the room, lush green vines and moderate bush-like plants free of dust, and even the window spotless. Frowning, her eyes locked on the headmistress, a heavyset woman with frizzy grey hair down to her shoulders. She was busy reading a report, her aged lips pursed as she looked over horn-rimmed glasses.

'Headmistress?' Hermione asked, making sure there was a certain her voice didn't quaver.

'Have a seat, Miss Granger,' the woman said, her tone severe.

Hesitantly, Hermione complied, unsure quite why she had been called to the office in the first place. She had just settled herself into a book in the library when an announcement blared over the school's intercom system requesting her presence in the office. They had just completed their finals of the year and many of the girls were heading home in the coming week; unless something untimely had happened to her parents, the young girl couldn't think of any reason to be summoned.

Setting the paper down, the headmistress leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow at the young girl. 'I am sure you know why you are here. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Granger?'

Curling her fingers into her skirt, Hermione shook her head. 'Actually, Headmistress, I don't know why I'm here. You make it sound as if I have done something wrong.'

Snorting, the headmistress stabbed her finger at the paper she had just been reading as if to emphasize a point. 'And you _didn't_?' she retorted, sliding her tongue across the lipstick that stained her teeth. 'Surely you don't think I'm a _fool_, Miss Granger.' She gave the girl a mocking smile as she peeled off her glasses, leaning forward like a predator. 'As you may not realize, being as young as you are, cheating is _strongly _frowned upon _especially_ on the aptitude exam. At Mayfield, we _pride_ our teacher and our students in honesty. What have you to say for yourself?'

Swallowing her anger, Hermione schooled herself, counting to ten before replying. In her most scholarly voice, she asked, 'If you will excuse me headmistress, but how is that I cheated on my exams? I had no reason to cheat as I studied for them. Even my prior test results in my courses should speak for themselves.'

Blinking at the girl's controlled response, the woman took a few moments to compose herself. 'It's one thing to get _perfect_ scores on your exams, but another to get a _perfect_ score on the aptitude test! Surely you jest in saying that your intellectual level is _three_ grades above your current one. Not only that but _all_ of your teachers wrote that you finished your exams between twenty to thirty minutes! Never in all my years have I seen someone not only take the tests so quickly, but accurately. The obvious conclusion is that you must have cheated.'

_Obvious my posterior_, Hermione though bitterly. Sometimes she hated adults as much as she hated her peers. She had suffered going to the boarding school because her parents had insisted that Mayfield was the leader in education for young girls. Midway through the second semester she had of course written them, after doing much needed research by sorting through school catalogues, and had requested they transfer her to an elevator school. The coursework at Mayfield was much too lax and lacking in intellectual stimulation. _I can get more out of the library than I could ever get out of this school._

Giving the headmistress a sarcastic smile, the girl nonchalantly crossed her legs in the most unladylike manner possible. 'Well, headmistress, I hate to put a damper on your obliviousness to my capacity of intellect; however, your exam was perhaps the easiest I have taken since starting school. In fact, I probably could have securely passed my final exams midway through this semester.' Watching the woman's jaw drop at her insolent tone was almost satisfactory for Hermione. 'As it is, if you really feel I have cheated then please do create a new exam or better yet supply me with the aptitude tests from past years and you will more than likely see a similar result, though I'm not arrogant enough to promise more perfect scores, but I am confident enough that the scores will be nearly so.

'Even in my previous school, my teachers accepted my abilities and pushed me to learn more and, only at the insistence of my parents, did I decide I would _try_ Mayfield,' Hermione said with a reluctant sigh. 'As it stands, Headmistress, I have requested a transfer to a different school, which my parents will happily submit to you tomorrow when they come to pick me up.' Rising from her seat, the girl hesitated at the door. 'I refuse to sit here and debate this with an individual who has no interest in the truth.'

She watched as the woman's face turned a rosy shade. 'MISS GRANGER!' the woman snapped. 'You _will not_ disrespect your betters. There is PROOF provided by your PEERS that you cheated.'

Raising an eyebrow in retort, the girl snapped, 'Let me suggest that listening to Miss Archer and Miss Blake is probably not the most accurate of proof. Perhaps you should check _their_ scores as I can guarantee their aptitude tests are much higher than their final exams or previous ones throughout the year. As it stands, you will excuse me _now_.' The girl felt strange burning energy in her as she willed the teacher to keep her mouth shut and forget the whole matter. 'I refuse to put up with your biased argument just because you are too scared to go after those particular girls due to their families making generous donations to this school.' The woman's eyes seemed glazed over as the girl bowed in mockery, then shutting the door behind her, and heading for her dorm room.

* * *

Unable to sleep with the restless energy from fighting with the headmistress, Hermione found herself in the library yet again. In her mind, if the answer couldn't be reached by thinking the thing through, then obviously it would be in a book somewhere because somebody else had thought of the answer. _Surely I didn't actually make her forget about the incident and calm herself_, she thought, but something nagged at her. Any normal person would have chased after her for such insubordination, but even through supper the headmistress said nothing to her or about her.

The girl thought more about how perhaps she really had altered the woman's state of mind with her own thoughts. With a pen and notebook she began writing out possibilities such as brainwashing, telepathy, mind control—and finally settled on telepathy. She went to the section of the library on psychology, keeping an eye out for any title that suggested psychic ability. Of course, the titles that held any such hope were two heads above her and she didn't much feel like getting a ladder to pull them down.

'Honestly I just want the blasted book on _Outside the Human Brain_!' she muttered angrily, her emotions at their peak, honestly feeling there was no justice in being short. Again she felt the strange pulse of energy in her as though a wind spun from her hand to the book, which flew off the shelf and smack into her hand with a sudden jolt of energy. Surprised she looked from the shelf to the book, trying recapture exactly how the strange power had felt. Thoughtfully, she took a seat at a nearby study desk, absentmindedly setting the book down.

'Like a wind, but not like a thought,' Hermione mused. _In that case it _isn't_ psychic ability. More like, an element? What uses elements besides science?_ The only thing that the girl could think of was alchemy, which was a form of bastardized science, at least according to texts. Then it struck her, almost making her giddy with childish excitement. _Alchemists though were often looked at as sorcerers or wizards and what were they purported to use, but…_ 'Magick.' Surely, a brilliant mind like herself would never give into the childish idea that magick existed, except there was nothing to truly prove it didn't. With that, Hermione decided she would assume she had magick until proven otherwise, and decided to being reading about human psychology and theorized psychic ability, since she had bothered to get the book down in the first place.

* * *

'Darling, how I've missed you!' her mother tearfully cooed, sweeping up her daughter in a hug. Hermione relaxed in the familiar embrace, feeling her own eyes tear up at the total acceptance she dearly missed. As she was sat down, she couldn't help but admire her mother, who was absolutely stunning despite the weight she had gained over the years. The girl hoped she would continue to take after the woman, whose thick curly hair came to her waist and honey-coloured eyes danced with mirth.

'I've miss you, too, Mama,' Hermione said shyly.

Her father, a short salt-and-pepper man, patted her gingerly on the back. 'I truly did miss you, dearest,' he said pecking her on the cheek before picking up her luggage. 'I'm sorry your experience here wasn't the best, but I hope you made some decent memories.'

'I definitely did!' she replied somewhat truthfully. 'They had the most _lovely_ library!'

Her parents gave each other knowing looks and chuckled as they began to pack into the car. Before she could get her door shut, though, Hermione heard a strange voice, a warm tug at her senses. It was similar to the night before when she had summoned the book. Frowning, she got out of the car and glancing nervously around.

_Help me! _shouted a voice, almost like that of a small child.

'Dear?' her mother asked, but Hermione wasn't quite paying attention.

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself hurrying over to a stretch of unkempt shrubbery where the warm feeling was strongest and could hear something flailing in the brush, a voice frantically shouting, _I have to get out! What if it's a predator! It will eat me!_

'Hello?' Hermione asked hesitantly, unsure of what to do. The rustling in the brush stopped. 'Is someone there?'

_It's a human,_ the voice came, _a human with magick...a wizard._

Getting on her hands and knees, she began to peel away at leaves as the strange feeling grew stronger, tying itself into a knot. Before Hermione knew it, she had uncovered a strange kitten with extra large ears who was extremely thin from obvious malnutrition. The cat's fur was matted, but from what she could tell it was speckled browned gold and black. Hermione saw the problem right away; the animal's tail was caught in some twine to the extent it had cut through some of the flesh, leaving much of it bare and making it look similar to that of a lion's.

'It's okay,' she said reassuringly, feeling her words pulse through the strange connection.

_I know now. Thank you_. The cat hissed as when she tugged a little too much on the twine, but Hermione managed to get it unhooked from the shrubbery, then pulling the animal out. In her attempt to rescue it, her parents had come up behind her.

'Poor thing,' her mother whispered, holding out a towel for it, which Hermione gently placed the cat into. 'Honey, look!'

Sitting up, her mom passing the cat to be cradled in her arms, Hermione marveled at its wide green eyes and unusual markings. Some part of her acknowledged the oddity in how sedate it was being, despite its obvious pain, and even her father gave her a marveling look.

'She needs to see a veterinarian right away,' her mother said.

Her father sighed, a chuckle escaping him, 'Well, I can already tell that I'm going to lose between you two girls. We'll take it to the vet. Just be careful that it doesn't claw or bite you, Hermione. God only knows what diseases it may have, and we don't know if its someone's lost pet or feral.'

_Tell him I am safe,_ the cat responded, closing its eyes and giving a soft rumbling purr. _In pain, but safe_.

'I think she's safe, but I think you're right, Papa. I'll be careful.'

As they settled into the car and were on their way leaving Mayfield behind, Hermione mumbled, 'What's your name?'

_You can call me Crookshanks. That's what my litter called me._

'Hermione, did you say something?' her mother asked, turning in her seat. Shaking her head, Hermione realized that her life was going to be anything but boring.


	7. 6 Meeting the Lion Head

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Chapter 6 Meeting the Lion Head**

**About:** How Hogwarts helps _muggles_ understand their peculiar children. (This is perhaps the shortest chapter out of this entire part; if anyone wants to see anything more for Hermione please just review and I'll consider it, but for now, her part is shortest of all.)

* * *

Term had just ended and Hermione was rather grateful, if not a bit saddened that it meant the school's library was closed. She was curled on her bed reading a fantasy novel, Crookshanks curled on top of her purring. _Since finding _him, she mused, remembering how he had lectured her in his girlish voice that she shouldn't stereotype his gender, _he sure has gotten it in his head that I'm the pet._ Hermione couldn't help but love the strange animal though, who taught her just as much as she learned from books. Their strange connection, too, had seemingly grown stronger over the past few years, which, according to Crookshanks, was due to him being her familiar.

Suddenly, he dug his claws in, happily shouting, _Finally! I never thought they'd come!_

Hermione yelped, knocking Crookshanks to the floor. 'Don't do that!' she shouted, smarting. He looked up at her indignantly and stuck his tongue out. 'Stupid cat.'

_I am _not _a cat. I'm a kneazle_, he reminded her for the umpteenth time. _Anyway, you might head downstairs before your parents call for you. A wizard has finally come to speak to them about you._

Curious, Hermione opened the door letting Crookshanks out. It was a shame, she realized, watching him strut down the hallway. After that fateful day and taking him to the vet, unfortunately there had been so much nerve damage to his tail, the Grangers had to have it removed; aside from that, he really was a regal feline. _Feline is okay, but cat isn't_, the girl thought, amused, as she overheard her mother speaking to someone at the door.

'…from a school called Hogwarts?'

'Yes, and we're very interested in your daughter. She's a very talented girl. Might we go and talk in the living room?' came a kindly voice.

As her mother was turning to call for, Hermione had come down the stairwell to the entryway and stopped next to Crookshanks. The woman at the door was middle-aged with her graying hair pulled back into a severe bun. She looked up at Hermione through square-shaped glasses, her eye twinkling with calculation. 'You must be Hermione Granger, then?' she asked.

'Yes,' the girl replied, glancing at her mom. 'Crookshanks said you'd be coming.'

'I'm sorry,' her mother said, face turning a shade of red. 'She told us that she can hear him talking. Hermione still isn't out of that stage of pretending to hear animals…'

Surprised, the woman looked at the feline who sat licking his paw. He paused only to pert at her for a second. 'Amazing. This is the first time I've seen a kneazle take so well to a human. You said he told you I would be coming, then?' Hermione nodded as her mother's jaw dropped in realization. 'Well then, Misses Granger, Miss Granger. I suggest we take some tea and seriously discuss this matter.'

* * *

Minerva was surprised at the young girl who steadily met her gaze, knowingly. She had expected an awkward conversation with the Granger family, as most of the conversations with _muggles_ and their magick-using children went; however, once Minerva had obviously accepted Hermione talking to her familiar, Laura and Theo had warmly welcome her into the house. It also helped that once being welcomed and giving a short explanation of her coming and what Hogwarts was, that she whipped out her wand and produced four steaming cups of tea for them.

Chuckling, Theo hugged his daughter. 'Alright, alright, I owe you an apology,' he said.

Hermione shrugged, drinking from the tea. 'It was a logical doubt, Father. However, like I said, so long as there is no proof to repute magick, there is a likelihood that it certainly exists.'

Smiling, Minerva stepped in. 'Hermione is exceptionally bright, especially for her age. Now, I'm sure you must be wondering more about Hogwarts such as how to get your supplies, what exactly the school entails—since up to this point there has been obvious doubt as to what was fantasy and reality.'

'Well, yes. You must admit that it's a little farfetched for us despite the fact that seeing is believing,' Laura said, patting Hermione's hand. 'We're a simple family of dentists, and though our daughter is brilliant, we never expected her to be a witch or wizard. Eccentric, what with her talking to Crookshanks, but not magick. Why, we're not magick!' The woman had a slight frown to her face, the essence of doubt marring her beauty for a moment.

'I'm actually unsure of quite how to explain this,' Minerva began, 'but sometimes two non-magick parents do have a magick child. I myself am from wizard parents, but I know of several who are from mixed or non-magick parents. You see, magick has a funny way of finding the most unusual outlets. Why, look at Crookshanks. He has bonded with your daughter, which is why they are able to communicate to each other; it's not as make believe as you may have thought. It's actually something that happens for some young wizards.

'I know this definitely a lot to take in, despite your daughter's preparations for you. I am available to you to question; however, I can tell already that Hermione has made up her mind to attend Hogwarts.'

Theo and Laura glanced at their daughter, who shrugged. 'I do need a challenge. I can study and learn all I want at school where magick isn't taught, but I don't truly belong. Even _you_ know how eccentric I am.'

'Oh, honey, you know we mean it as an endearment,' Laura said, running her fingers through her daughter's bushy brown hair in reassurance.

'How about the supplies you spoke of?' Theo asked, glancing at the list Minerva had handed them. 'Obviously this isn't mainstream. And what of the cost?'

'There are two ways you can deal with this. One is to have me purchase the materials for Miss Granger and supply you with a bill. You money is different from the money that wizards use, so there is a conversion factor. The other option you have is to arrange a date you would be willing to meet me in London, and I can take you and your daughter on a tour of Diagon Alley, which is an area wizards, witches, and others shop for their magickal needs.' Sipping her tea, Minerva gave the Grangers what she hoped was a welcoming smile. 'Honestly, we try to make this as painless as possible. First, it _is_ a huge shock, though compared to most families, Miss Granger has _certainly_ prepared you. Second, all three of you are stepping into a whole new world. Despite the fact that you two do not have magick, you will be around it more and see it more as your daughter progresses in her studies. I can already guarantee you that you should be beyond proud of her ability, too. If you are okay with her attending Hogwarts, she will certainly shine. As a teacher and the assistant headmistress, I vouch for this and Hogwarts sends you status reports each quarter.'

_And she will shine_, Minerva thought as they progressed through the day, the Grangers signed Hermione's attendance and discussed with her the date they could meet her in London for the schools supplies and tour. _I have never seen a _muggle -_born so powerful at such a young age._ Hermione met her gaze once and nodded as though accepting a challenge, and the elderly witch felt ready to accept the tutelage of such a promising student.


	8. 7 A Light Contrast

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – A Light Contrast Chapter 7**

**About: **What exactly is the difference between the Dark families and the Light families?

**Warning: **Of course, the way that I portray some much-loved Rowling character might be found offensive to some. I apologize for offending anyone; however, these portrayals do serve their purposes, but they might not be apparent for a while.

* * *

Ginny waved goodbye to Cedric, who had begun the trek back to his house in the fading light. They had spent the day running around the forest chasing salamanders to a smoldering woodpile and watched as the lizards sparked and ran about the forest, leaving the mast untouched as they torched on and off in vibrant blues and reds. Sighing, Ginny began to climb up the hill towards the Burrow—a magickly constructed house of odds and ends that towered three stories, and had a small tower branching off just above the shed. Reaching the grassy top, she looked at the chickens pecking about the front yard, one of which squawked loudly as a gnome plucked one of her larger feather.

Shaking her head, she reached the front steps waving to the gnomes mulling about doing their daily business. Ginny liked the brown rugged gnomes and faeries who claimed the Burrow area as their home. The gnomes traded with her mother rocks and bugs for knickknacks, and they also kept the garden with the faeries. Gnomes were much better at growing vegetables and the like, while the faeries kept flowers and fruits in exchange for cloth and twilseys. The Weasley family had one of the best gardens in the area thanks to their cooperation with the magick peoples.

Opening the door, Ginny kicked off her muddy sneakers and stepped barefoot onto the wood floor. The smell of fresh bread and roast filled the house. Heading to the kitchen, she found her mother peeling potatoes while a spoon stirred itself in a pot on the stove. Looking up while nudging a strand of curled auburn hair from her eyes, Molly gave her a warm smile. 'There you are dear. I was about to send Ronald to go find you.'

Smiling timidly, Ginny went to the sink and washed her hands off. She grabbed a stool, dragged it to the stove, and took over stirring. 'Sorry. Cedric and I had to put the fire out before coming home. We got about seven salamanders, too!' she said, watching as the gravy bubbled and steamed. With the sound of the chair pushing back, Molly came over with the potatoes, and with a wave of her wand and muttered charm, a wisp of cubed light wrapped around and sliced the potatoes into chunks, which then fell into the gravy.

'Seven? That's quite a few at this time of year. I'm surprised they aren't preparing to hibernate,' Molly muttered absentmindedly, her attention quickly turning to a giant clock-like device in the corner of the kitchen. It was made of willow and mahogany, and had nine carved hands on the face with the Weasley names carved in gold lettering and twined with a hair from each family member. Two of the hands no longer functioned as they should. Bill had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that June and begun work at Gringotts Bank shortly thereafter. Part of his work included working in foreign banks to understand the security measures other wizards took to guard their most precious artifacts and treasures. Charlie, though in his last year of school, was attending a Ministry sponsored event in China learning about the dragon breeds in East Asia. Both of her brothers spent so much time outside of home, Ginny hardly remembered her oldest brothers; however, the hands reminded her that they did indeed exist, though they were too far from the clock for the charm to work.

Four other hands were spread over a small plaque etched with "Home"—Molly, Ginny, and her two brothers, Percy and Ron. Percy was more than likely upstairs in his room studying and doing his summer coursework. The twins, Fred and George, were over a plaque reading, "Ottery Village's Hollow", which was the name of the small wizarding community that they lived stretching from the Burrow to Cedric's home on the other end of the hill and forest. Beyond the Hollow was a nearby _muggle_ community, Ottery St. Catchpole where Molly worked in the mornings. She ran a shop with Elena Diggory that sold holistic medicines and goods, and between them and two other witches they ran a café out the backside.

The last hand was quickly traveling between a plaque reading "Ministry" and making its way to "Home". 'Your father's going to be here soon. I want you to go and get Ronald and Percival from upstairs; I'll take care of the twins.' Molly waved her wand absently letting bread sail out of the stoneware oven and land steaming into a basket on the table, then the flames under the pot on the stove went out, and the oven popped open a few inches letting the smell of meat juices covered in apple honey glaze further fill the room. Rolling up the sleeves of her dress, she marched to the screen door leading out of the kitchen, letting it slam behind her, leaving Ginny to sigh as she took one last look at the hand reading, "Arthur Weasley".

* * *

Ron stared absently at the ceiling, a feeling of guilt and anger tugging at him. He hadn't told Molly about what had happened the other day when Arthur had taken him and the twins to Diagon Alley. His dad had strictly forbade them from saying a word to their mother. Even at eight, Ron knew that many members in the Ministry mocked his father; he had heard hushed conversations from his parents who lived in the room next to his. It was two of his dad's superiors that had held him up at the ice cream store for a few hours.

The one man, Lawrence Flagstaff, was a transfer from the United State's British Wizarding Embassy. Tall, broad shouldered, and the colour of milk chocolate, the man was a family friend; however, there was a look of disappointment. 'Arthur, we hate to do this in front of your kids,' Lawrence winced as he glanced at Fred, George, and Ron who had each paused while spooning globs of sweet ice cream into their mouths. Digging into his trench coat pocket, he pulled out three galleons and passed them to the boys. 'Why don't you three go and check out the emporium?' All three nodded, Fred and George unusually obedient.

Ron had followed his brothers just around the corner before running into their backs. 'Why'd you stop? They don't want us listening in on them.'

Snorting, Fred reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a strange gooey blob, breaking it in two. 'Yes, of course they don't want us to listen in on them _Ronny_.'

'_Ronny_, why thank you for stating the obvious,' George said rolling his eyes as he and Fred let the glob drop to the ground. 'But what the adults don't know…'

'…won't hurt them.'

Ron, a slight shade of red at his nickname, was too distracted to retort. He watched in awe as the glob oozed along the dirtied street and along the side of the wall. 'What's that?'

'Newest invention.' Fred muttered a quick charm which Ron vaguely knew meant 'listen'. The glob began to emit sound, growing a little louder and more clear as the glob neared the adults. George muttered a stopping charm which froze the glob near the tables, where Lawrence and a balding and rotund man sat; all three ducked around the corner, squatting down to listen to the glob in Fred's outstretched hand so the adults wouldn't notice them.

'If it wasn't for Bulstrode noticing some errors in inventory in correspondence to _your _cases we never would have noticed,' the other man's voice was harsh and disproving. 'We are here to give _you_ the opportunity to turn in all the confiscated items from your cases that mysteriously went missing _before_ we conduct an investigation of your home and property. The search is unavoidable at this point; however, we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. This is considered strike one, though. You know very well that each of the recovered items must go through the proper deconstruction channels so the Ministry can categorize new charms and decide the outcomes of cases. Bulstrode also pointed out that some of the _missing_ inventory is considered highly dangerous, which is why she alerted us in the first place. You can't just take enchanted items from the Department, Weasley!'

George frowned. 'Arthur really did steal that stuff then.'

Angry, Ron hissed, 'Dad would never do that! They're obviously lying!'

The twins traded a knowing look. 'Ron, Arthur really did. Mum was talking to Elena about it the other day, and two nights ago we overheard them arguing because Mum found a teapot covered in blood in the shed. Arthur told her he'd been doing a spell that used the blood of a chicken, but when we checked the shed the gnomes told us that the blood was cat and only a few weeks old. Didn't you ever wonder where Percy's familiar went? Why he's been holing up in his room? Arthur got his familiar killed.'

'Dad would never and the gnomes are greedy liars! Dad always complains about missing stuff all the time!' Ron spat only to stop as Lawrence's voice came over the glob.

'…teapot with a blood stealing curse? Why the hell would you take that?'

The sound of Arthur's shaky drawl was like a knife in Ron. 'I-I just wanted to understand how the teapot functioned before it was stripped. I've never seen an electric one. I wanted to see how the coil and plug worked. I-I didn't mean any harm…I-It ate the cat, though.'

* * *

Ron woke up with the sound of pounding and Ginny shouting. With a sigh, he got out of bed and shuffled to the locked door. Opening it, he glared at his young fiery sister. 'WHAT?'

'It's dinnertime and Father's nearly home,' she replied, bottom lip pouting out. 'Really, Ron, don't be such a grump.' With that she stomped off to the stairwell leading to the attic.

Feeling apologetic, Ron scratched at his messy hair, and shuffled down the stairs in his sweats and T-shirt. He heard the sound of Fred and George coming through the screen door, chatting lively about hanging out with Lee Jordan who had come to visit his mother for the summer. 'Lee showed us his mum's collection of spiders! It was wicked!' came one of the twin's excited voices. 'Definitely want one of those when we go off to Hogwarts next year.'

Ron reached the kitchen just as Molly snorted. 'Never mind the fact that your father is scared witless of them and would beat the two of you senseless if you brought one in this house.'

'Hey, Mum,' Ron said, yawning widely.

'Would you help the twins set the table, Ronald?'

'It's Ron,' the boy muttered, but went to the cabinet and began to grab plates while his brothers were setting silverware and cups. 'Are you going to get Percy a new cat?' Molly stopped what she was doing causing Ron to watch her in surprise. She stared sadly out the window and with a sigh turned and gave him a sad smile.

'Ron, honey, that's not how it works. Right now your brother is in a lot of pain. Once he heals more, maybe, but we can't just get a new one. That would feel like we were replacing his cat, and you can't replace life. Each life is precious in its own and must be grieved for in its own.' Before she said anything else, the sound of Arthur opening the front door made her lips grow tight. 'Your father's home.'

He realized that Molly knew of his father's involvement in the death of Percy's cat, and again the guilt and anger filled him. He couldn't tell if he was angry at himself, his mother, or his father, nor could he place why he felt guilty. It wasn't until after the entire family had settled around the table, Molly giving grace to the Mother Goddess and blessing the me, that Ron really looked at his family. He and Ginny always sat around their father, the others all sat nearer to their mother. He had never thought of it before, but it seemed like their house was somehow divided. As he took a bite of roast, Ron promised himself that he would stick with his father no matter what.

* * *

Ginny was in the shed, going through every nook and cranny at the request of Ron. The two had come out as soon as Molly and Arthur had gone to work, and had been at it for over an hour. Moving another box out of the way, the girl sneezed at a cloud of dust. 'If we asked the gnomes to help us find anything magicked or cursed it would go faster,' she said, swiping at her nose. 'This is ridiculous, Ron. It's not like we can go through all of Dad's boxes and tools. We don't even know exactly what to look for.'

'Shut-up! We can do this without the stupid gnomes. They're just lying thieves anyway.'

The younger girl frowned at her brother's distaste and stopped what she was doing. Despite their only being a year apart, Ginny often felt much older and wiser than her brother. She couldn't place why, but there was a defeatist attitude that plagued Ron, something that none of her other brothers seemed to have. Her other brothers each had some kind of talent either academically or magickally—Bill had aced many of his classes with ease and even won awards academically, Charlie had a gift with dragons that had never before been seen in British wizards, Percy was much like Bill and also had won the attention of his teachers, and even Fred and George despite their age had mastered spells many newly wanded wizards were just learning about. Ron, though, she had realized was always filled with doubt.

'Ron, you've had accidentals, you know,' Ginny finally said. 'You're not a squib.'

Her brother stopped and sniffed. Big tears began streaming down his dirtied cheeks leaving curved tracks and dripping off his chin. 'I know. If it wasn't for Dad I would've thought I was.'

Ginny came over and hugged her brother, tightly. 'I never once thought you were a squib.'

'I know,' he said, hiccupping as he tried to stop sobbing. 'I-I know.'

Pulling away, Ginny really looked at her brother. 'What's wrong beside that? You know that Dad and Mum love you, that all of us love you.'

He couldn't contain it anymore and told Ginny about overhearing their father's thievery. Ginny didn't say anything for awhile, and instead stared numbly at the floor before she spoke. 'You know, Dad is a good person, but even good people do things that can be bad. Just like Fred and George can pull a prank and they don't mean bad by it, but they end up scaring someone or even hurting someone. It's the same for Dad except he's an adult. You wonder why the others call him 'Arthur'? It's because to them he is on the same level making the same mistakes they do. He's not a father, but a child.'

'He _is_ our father though,' Ron insisted, glaring at her.

Smiling, patting her brother on the arm, Ginny rose stretching. 'Remember that I call him 'Dad', too.' With that she went out to the garden to ask the gnomes for help.


	9. 8 Growing Pains

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part I Magick in the Air – Growing Pains Chapter 8**

**About: **Bitterness can poison people. Feeling inadequate can lead to a self-destructive cycle. Quarreling parents can make people uncertain and even hateful.

**Note:** Thank you for the reviews, likes, etc. I appreciate it. I hope you're still enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it, and I'm sorry if I disappoint. Again, this is a shorter chapter than I expected, but here comes the end of Part I and onto Part II.

* * *

He held the thick yellowed letter, staring blankly at the wall. It had come sometime before noon just after his mother had left for the store. Some part of him was elated he realized; however, he couldn't bring himself to be excited. His excitement came from the realization that he really wasn't a squib, but actually wizard enough to attend Hogwarts just as his family had for centuries. Ron sighed heavily, clenching his eyes. In the end it really wasn't anything special. He still wasn't remotely as magical as his brothers and sister, nor was he as smart. Charlie was thriving as a dragon breeder in Romania, helping to protect them from poachers and protect _muggles_ from inevitably becoming dinner. Bill had quickly found himself in charge of a branch of Gringotts in Prague and worked diligently as a curse breaker. Percy, too, had received a letter that day from the school deeming him the Gryffindor House Prefect, and even though Fred and George were frequently in trouble, they too had received accommodations from their instructors for inventiveness.

'Even Ginny is special,' he muttered feeling his eyes tear.

As an earth witch, Molly had trained for years to focus her magick into a single element. She had bound it into the earth, which was part of the reason the gnomes and faeries were attracted to their house. It was traditional magick that was dying out as more witches and wizards sought more diversified paths. She had taken to tutoring Ginny, though Ron knew part of it had to do with Ginny being the only girl. All he wanted was be recognized for something, but it was more like he wasn't even there. He had tried to learn spells by going through the old spell books, but none of them worked or turned out how they should. Ron just wasn't as clever or magically talented as the others.

There was a soft knock at the door. 'Ron?'

Surprised, Ron wiped at his eyes. 'Dad?' He got up and opened the door to his father, allowing him in. Arthur took a seat on his bed, patting the comforter. 'What are you doing home?'

'I took some time off for a bit,' he said as Ron took the seat beside his father. Ron could see the smile on his father was forced. 'What are you doing up here by yourself? Surely you got your letter today.'

Ron nodded, jerking his head at the parchment on his bed. 'Who would I tell? Ginny? She's busy doing her own thing and Mum's at work.'

'I would be _very_ surprised if your sister wasn't happy for you. Both of you get along so well,' Arthur said with a sigh. 'Then again I'm realizing maybe I don't know the way things are as I used to.' Ron was surprised at his father's thoughtful attitude. Smiling, the man patted his son heavily on the knee. 'It's taken me some time to realize this, but, you know, after the Dark War, I was running from facing some things—things about myself and this family. It's time I do, my boy.'

Unsure of what to say, Ron let the silence grow until it was almost unbearable. 'Dad, why did you take those _muggle_ things that time? I mean, you knew it was wrong and stuff, but you still did it anyway.'

'I wish I had a good answer for you. An adult answer. But I really don't,' Arthur mused, not at all surprised at his son's question. 'No, I would have to say it was childish curiosity and some desire to stay out of reality. You see, even though I'm in charge of aiding _muggles_ who are at the ends of jokes or terrible curses, I really don't understand their thinking. I like to take things apart and put them back together, in truth. Find out how things tick and work.' Chuckling, he turned to give Ron a serious look, one with sincere guilt. 'But curiosity killed the cat as they say. I did your brother, Percy, a great wrong with my actions, and from that peculiarity of mine I've done some damage to this family and your mother.

'But, Ron. Did you know that Gryffindor is considered the house of the courageous?' Scratching at his balding reddish hair, the man continued, 'Sometimes we stray for a bit before getting on track.'

'Dad, why are you telling me this?'

Smiling, Arthur stood to leave. 'Ron, you need to be strong with yourself. I know I don't spend much time with you and you often get buried under your brothers and sister, but that doesn't mean you're any less a part of this family. I want you to know that I'm making an effort for the family.' He pointed at the wall that separated Ron's room from his parents'. 'I know you can hear us argue at night. I _have_ noticed on those particular days you don't leave your room until we're both off to work.'

'Thanks, Dad.' Ron had been worried about his parents, but he also knew that once Arthur set his mind on something he would go through with it. As Molly had commented once, that was part of the reason she had married him. He didn't have the heart to tell his father that it wasn't as bad as he thought it was, though. Ron had walked in on his mother crying to herself in the kitchen the morning after one of their particularly loud arguments. Sometimes it took even parents a while to find common ground again.

Lost in thought, Ron was surprised when Arthur said as he shut the bedroom door. 'For a bit you'll hear people say some things about me and my character. You're getting ready for school and whatnot.' He gave his youngest son a sad smile. 'Some of it will be true, and some exaggeration, but I want you to know that no matter what I am your father and I love you.' The door closed giving Ron some awkward things to ponder.

* * *

'Ron doesn't really talk to me anymore,' Ginny said with a pout, leaning back against the apple tree, a few of the faeries and gnomes perched around her. 'Cedric is off at school, too, so I don't really have anyone to play with or talk to.' She toyed with the ends of her flaming red hair, which was down to her waist, watching her companions. Two of the faeries were working on making dresses, while a third was whittling a tiny flute. The gnomes on the other hand were weaving baskets out of pine needles.

'Your youngest brother just hasn't found his purpose,' said the gnome Little Rock. She was deftly braiding the needles with strands of grass, the basket coming together quickly. 'We gnomes go through it. We find us a time where we feel less than everyone else. Can't do much for others that others can do better, don't really stand out. We don't have family like you people, but instead a clan. Then one day we wander out and find our path. It's a walk that can take a moment or longer. Then one day we find our path and all this right.'

'You're saying my brother will one day be stronger than he is now?' Ginny asked. She felt hopeful as the gnomes nodded and the faeries agreed. Ron had certainly changed as the problems between their parents escalated. There weren't many words to put to Ron, other than troubled. He wasn't like their other brothers who thrived on independence. It was shame that Ron didn't see it, too; however, it was a bigger shame that their parents didn't pay it any heed.

_They're too used to the others_, she realized, sighing. _But Ron doesn't fit in their neat tidy category and all of this insecurity and unknowing is eating him whole._ That was when she realized why Ron was having so many problems. 'Oh, my word,' she said, surprised.

Little Rock stopped what she was doing. 'Revelation?'

'Yeah,' Ginny muttered. 'When Mum was teaching about some earth magick with planting, she told me that we have to help the plant think it's strong or it will believe it's weak. Same with baking and the like, with weak spots in dough or an unsharpened knife for cutting, things inevitably become weak and fall apart. Breaking. Do you think Ron could be _making_ his magick weak?'

Smiling one of the fairies respond, 'Now you understand. He needs to find his purpose so he can be stronger.'

'And he has you to help him,' Little Rock said, continuing her weave as the group relaxed in the afternoon sun.

Ginny let the warm of the sun soak into her, curling her bare toes into the soil. 'I will of course help him because who else will? I'm afraid he's going to bully people away when he gets to Hogwarts without me.' She sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, but sometimes she could tell the way their paths would take and Ron's hardest year would be his first.


	10. Unfortunate Spell Prologue

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part II Unfortunate Spell – Prologue**

* * *

'I have not a clue how you stomach that bile,' Rowena muttered, sitting at the head table after hours. She was dressed in a silk gown of indigo and green, her feet covered in slippers. Her long red hair was pulled back in a bun with curled waves coming down to fall against her shoulders. It was obvious she had just finished her rounds at her family's house; there had been a party where nobles were invited to share in the latest gossip about the wars and religious movements. The Ravenclaw family in particular were powerful leaders, her family having military, merchant, and scholarly backgrounds.

'Why? Too much earth, my dear?' Helga taunted, drinking from her mug a tonic she had brewed for a clear head and good night's rest. Every passing day the house wars seemed to escalate with the woman left to tend the hospital wing, aiding the cursed and poisoned. It was exhausting between teaching lessons, tending the gardens, and keeping track of all other piles of things that cropped up. 'Alas, that is why I work with the soil and plants and you spend all your time in that study of yours. It is also why you buy ingredients from me.'

Smirking, Rowena bowed her head. 'Certainly, Helga. We all serve purposes. You perhaps most of all,' the usually arrogant woman confessed. 'I _am_ envious to a degree. Magick for me is a chore just because I must keep appearances at my parent's estate. They were never so involved as I am, but I find it taxing to work with the _muggles_. Sometimes I would much rather spend my days here, researching and spell casting.' Chuckling, the older Rowena smiled at her friend. 'Dear Helga, you are a breeze of fresh air to these halls.'

Giving a sad laugh, the woman replied, 'He told me the same thing. Salazar. He told me that I would be what Hogwarts was meant to become. It was my vision. But lately I feel like I am drowning in all this hate like a disease of chaos.' She drained the tonic with an exasperated sigh. 'I just wish that fool Gryffindor would stop treating this like a knight's errand and start treating it like a united school of magick! I cannot take one more war cry in the middle of a lecture and I am very well going to curse the next fool who harasses one of _my_ house just because _my_ house is smart enough to keep their nebs out of this ridiculous clash between Slytherin and Gryffindor!'

Nodding, a little surprised at her companion's outburst, Rowena snapped her fingers and a house elf answered her summons. 'Would you bring me some wine and two goblets?' With a bow the elf went to do as she bid, and in a moments time returned. 'Very good,' she told the creature who smiled and vanished. Rowena poured the wine for the two of them, passing it to Helga. 'You are strong, though. I am hardly here, and as a noble I don't always see the world the same way as people who aren't. To your vision, Helga.'

Their clinking glasses echoed in the empty hall, and the two sipped from their goblets. 'From your family stores, I assume,' Helga mused looking at the dark red of the wine.

'Is there any better?' Rowena sighed looking at the empty long tables divided into four section. 'Our dreams are becoming a nightmare as this animosity between houses grows. Even in my own house I begin to see the calculations of whether to stand with Slytherin or Gryffindor, and Salazar isn't even here to defend his house. No matter what words we say to them, still there are pranks and open fights and Godric simply antagonizing the situation with his knight's attitude that Salazar is a coward unwilling to face a _man's_ duty, whatever that is.'

Helga couldn't help but burst into laughter at Rowena's obvious distaste. 'I can agree with that. 'A man's duty' indeed. Both men warriors in their own way and I wonder who truly had the right of it? Salazar who left to stem the fighting only creating rumor and distrust as members of his house plot, or Godric who stayed and runs around antagonizing and provoking his? Surely we should just combine the two of them into one being and Hogwarts would be unstoppable.'

'Or unbearable,' Rowena muttered, a giggle escaping her. The two continued drinking the wine until the bottle was empty, finally resting their tired heads on the table. 'I don't want to move. My legs are killing me after having to dance tonight, and all I get to look forward to tomorrow are lessons, whining prefects, and if I remember correctly meeting the new potential teachers. Thank god Godric and Salazar aren't picky about who I employ.'

'Not that Salazar is here to even voice an opinion,' Helga muttered, sadly. She leaning back into her chair staring up into the ceiling, feeling like her mind was drifting away in a thousand different directions. Everything whirled around the enchanted ceiling, which reflected the night sky as an expanse of brilliant white stars unclouded by the weather. It wasn't until Rowena frantically shook her that she realized anything was wrong. 'What is it?'

'You-you started to speak in this strange voice. I think you just gave a prophecy of some sort.' It was rare to see Rowena panicked, the woman usually had an answer for everything and anything. Despite her headstrongness, she usually had a reason for her methods, though it sometimes took some needling to figure out what those methods were.

'A prophecy?' Helga snorted. 'Surely you jest. I must have been talking in my sleep or some such. I am much to exhausted and had a bit too much wine, I am afraid.'

'Possible, but unlikely.' Thoughtfully, Rowena pulled out her wand and placed it to her temple. She pulled the tip away after much thought and with it came a strand of silver, which she whirled into a wind which pulsed with Helga's voice, distant and inhuman as it echoed in the hall:

To prove magick is union—

Understanding of our world,

A boy of snakes and lions,

Born to stop a chaotic darkness

From outshining light

And burning light from

Swallowing darkness,

Will lead the wizard world

Opening closed eyes

With mighty roar

Our houses he will unite.

With union formed

The chaos he shall smite.


	11. Interlude: A Vague Request

**Author's Note:** Sorry if it seems like I've died. I was working 40+ hours a week on top of preparing to move to Korea. I'm hoping to get one chapter up before I officially move; however, I move this coming Saturday. :") Anyway, here's a short interlude and I will not give up on this story.

**Interlude**

* * *

_Dear Severus Snape:_

_I do not know when or if you will receive this letter; however, my sister had written your name and address down should anything happen in regards to her son. I don't think I know you, but at the same time I feel like I do. It's peculiar for me. Anyway, I am assuming you are a member of her world—a wizard if you will—and would know what to do. What _I_ should do. Somehow, I have done a great wrong to my nephew, Harry Potter. Even now I don't know how to put words to it, as it feels like every time I know what's in my mind it's gone. I'm beginning to feel like I don't know my own mind and heart. I feel like a foreigner to my own mind and body.. Sorry to speak of this with a stranger, but Lilly trusted you, so I will place that trust in you as well. I hope to hear from you soon. I don't know what else to do but wait for your response. Please help me._

_Sincerely,_

_Petunia Evans-Dursley _


	12. 9 Diagon Alley

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part II Unfortunate Spell – Chapter 9 Diagon Alley**

**About:** First impressions are meaningful.

**Note:** Sorry how long it took me to get this up! It's been a crazy time with training and work. Hope you enjoy this chapter and its extensive length.

**NOTE ABOUT MAGICK: **There are actually a few ways to spell 'magic' the most popular being with a 'c' at the end; however, the idea is that 'magic' refers to that of stage magicians through illusionary skill and 'magick' relates to spell work of the fantasy-nature (basically magick is the fictitious sort—though many neo-pagans also prefer to use this spelling to differentiate their magick from stage magic). For these reasons, I choose to spell it with a 'ck' at the end. Sorry if this bothers anyone, but thank you for taking an interest!

* * *

The sound of the motorcycle burned in Harry's ears as he shivered against the night's cold. Hagrid hadn't said a word to him since they had stepped outside and swung onto a dirt covered motorbike parked along Privet Drive. The passenger cart luckily had had a blanket tucked into it, which Harry had firmly wrapped up in before buckling himself in, though the boy couldn't help but wonder what it had once covered. There was a matt of strange black hair covering it and some obvious holes from something chewing it. _At the rate I'm going_, he thought numbly, _it's probably a man-eating goat or something just as strange._

As the night wore on and the two made their way to London, Harry found himself trying to suffocate everything that roared in him. He didn't want to think about anything, just take each step that came. Breathing deep, he focused on locking away the frigid anger that threatened to explode from him. It pulsed as he mentally shut it away, deep in his heart; it was as though his emotions had grown a mind of their own, and with a promise, he felt the frustration and abyss of hatred flicker into the depths of his very soul as a door closed on it. It was exhausting and took every ounce of his concentration. Somehow he felt like he was physically combating everything—the abuse, the raw emotion, that night, and the truths he had yet to uncover. He didn't know how long it took him to firmly secure everything with a mental binding, some part of him realizing this strange encasement was probably more magick, but the boy suddenly found himself being shaken awake.

'Ye alright there, 'Arry?' Hagrid asked, his voice weary.

Blinking his eyes open, Harry glanced around to realize they had stopped in front of a dingy looking pawn store. 'Where are we?'

'We're at the Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub and hotel for wizards and the like to stop in for a spell,' he chortled at the latter, seemingly amused at the cold joke. 'Anyway, we kin stop 'ere for the night since the shops'll be closed until tomorrow mornin'. I just gotta message Dumbledore somethin' afore we settle in fer the night.'

As Harry clambered out of the sidecar onto the dirt covered cobbles, he frowned, looking for a sign of the pub. 'You sure this is the right place? I don't see anything.'

Hagrid chuckled as he swung off the bike, turning a knob near the speedometer. Gasping, Harry watched as the bike shrunk until it was the size of a toy, which Hagrid picked up and stuck into a vest pocket. 'Shrinking charm,' the giant-man replied as if it explained everything. 'Very talented wizard made this bike. You would have liked the man. He was your father's best friend.' Not knowing what to say especially at Hagrid's admittance the 'best friend' _was_, Harry grunted, shivering in the chilled night feeling sick and rung out. 'Anyway, ye won't see it because it's hid. Now if ye clear your mind a bit and really look, lemme know if ye can find it or not. This kin be a test of sort, 'Arry. Yer first…well, a _step_ towards understandin' magick.'

Tired and wanting nothing more than to sleep and not think, Harry glared at the man before turning back to the storefront. Again, all he saw was the pawn store with its cracked window and a 'For Sale' sign taped up. As he stared, though, he noticed a strange doorway peeling off to the side. As he focused, a yellow door seemed to materialize with black words etched across its surface reading: The Leaky Cauldron of Diagon Alley. Eyes wide, he glanced at Hagrid who was busy nibbling at a nail.

'Ye see it there, 'Arry?'

Nodding, he followed behind the man, who swung open the door motioning Harry inside. The warmth swamped the boy as if trying to combat the chill that had settled into his very soul. Harry breathed deep the rich aroma of yeast bread and the sharp tang of alcohol as the door shut behind them. Quick stock of the area showed them in a tavern lit with a huge fireplace. There were a few people at various tables, and a large balding man behind the bar counter.

Looking up from what he was doing, the bartender gave a toothy smile. 'Ah, it's ye 'Agrid. What're doin' out 'ere so late at night?'

Hagrid chuckled as he angled himself towards the bar. 'If ye may know, Hogwarts business. Ye got a couple o rooms 'ere tonight?' He settled himself precariously on a bar stool leaving Harry to stand awkwardly at the door.

'A couple. Who's that ye got there?'

Grinning, Hagrid turned and nodded at Harry. 'Well, Harry Potter, Tom! Can ye imagine? Ain't seen 'im since he was a babe!'

With that, the people in the tavern all stood with a loud scraping of chairs, jaws dropped as they came awkwardly towards Harry. Unsure of what they were going to do, Harry found himself inching towards the door until his back was pressed against the firm wood.

'Did he just say Harry Potter?' a witch said, tears coming down her dirtied face. 'Harry Potter! My lord!' She reached out for him grabbing his shirtsleeve. 'Bless you, my child. Bless you!' Others crowded around him, either simply touching him or shaking his hand.

'Mister Potter is it!'

'Pleasure to meet you my lad! Pleasure to meet you! Always wanted to. Been waiting for the day I could see you.'

Harry felt his head growing tight between the contact, the people much too close, their words shrill and tear-filled. The mental block on his emotions groaned and creaked as the people pressed him. Luckily, Tom came over and gently pulled Harry behind him, glancing at Hagrid who was, by that point, talking to a tanned man with a purple turban, his hand on a tankard. 'Well, then lad. Let's get you up to a room. Sorry, but young Potter's had a night of it. Let the boy get some rest.' With that the elderly man practically dragged Harry from the room and up some stairs behind the bar.

'You alright there, Harry?' Tom asked, hesitating in the stairwell.

'Why were they doing that? Grabbing and touching me? I don't _know_ them,' Harry muttered, a chill up and down his spine. He hesitantly looked up at Tom who had a look of concern and pity on his face, which quickly faded away.

'Well, Harry. Why don't we get ye into a room first?' With that the man continued up the stairs until he reached the second floor. He produced an old skeleton key with the room number etched in thin black, unlocking the nearest door on the right. The room was sparsely furnished with a twin bed, an oak dresser with a vanity mirror, and a door that led off to a bathroom with a toilet and small shower. 'Here ye go then, Harry.' Tom ushered the boy in, shutting the door behind them.

'Thank you, sir,' Harry found himself muttering in response.

'Right, Harry, ye seem like a fish outta water,' Tom said as he motioned for the younger man to take a seat. 'Been living out of the wizard world from the looks of it, an' ol' Hagrid not quick enough to catch ye up to speed.' Eyeing Harry with watery grey eyes, the old bartender leaned against the wall with a creak before continuing. 'Ye know about yer parents I'm guessing, but do ye know about the war or anything?'

Shaking his head, Harry muttered, 'No, sir. Not really.' _Not like I even know much about my _parents _either._

'Well then, about forty or so years ago there was a man—a wizard. He got it in his head that there were no need for _muggles_ and no need for _muggle-born_. He hated them squibs and most of all despised those who wouldn't follow in his plan. Now, _muggles_, they're what we call non-magick folk and _muggle-born_, they're what some folk would call _mudbloods_. Dirty blood, right, but that's a foul word so don' go sayin' it around. A squib is a person who gets born in a magick family to magick parents and pops out with no magick whatsoever. Now, this was all after that World War II and all that stuff with the _muggles _right, so much of the horror matched a lot of that stuff, especially since _he-who-should-not-be-named_, that wizard, did much the same as Hitler. Wouldn't surprise me if he was controlling the whole Nazi thing as an experiment before he went after wizards.

'Anyway, right when the war showed no promise and that wizard be getting' more an' more powerful an' more an' more not right in the head, he went after yer family.' His crinkled eyes grew glossy with unshed tears as he looked at Harry before pressing on, 'Well, right as he did it, somethin' happened that night and _you_ my boy, all of a babe, killed 'im. That's why those wizards out there were so happy to see ye. They wanted to touch their savior.

'Now, I seen some famous people—heroes, stars, ye name it—an' I know how much that can wear on ye. Don't let it get to ye, and the best way, Harry? Don' tell them yer full name. Just go by Harry and keep that scar of yers under yer bangs. Ye don't want people makin' friends with ye fer the sole reason ye did somethin' ye don't even remember.'

With that the man turned to leave the pensive boy who looked worn to the bone. His parting words sang to Harry as some string of hope. 'An' I can tell ye been through somethin' hard, boy, but there's somethin' out there waitin' for ye. Anyway, ye can find some complimentary pajamas in the dresser there, an' I'll bring up some of my boy's old things. He don't need 'em anymore.'

'Thank you,' Harry whispered as the door clicked shut. He sprawled on the bed falling asleep before old Tom could even make it back.

* * *

The clothes he had found outside his door fit much better than his old ones, which Harry promptly dumped in the trash, wanting to shed everything from the Dursleys that he could. He was shocked when they disappeared just as suddenly as he had put them in the wicker basket, and shrugged his shoulders. It was easier to accept the oddities than it was to question them. Even the mirror had given him a start at first when it suggested he use a hair straightening charm and some moisturizer to improve his looks. _Never mind the fact it told me I needed to eat more._

Wandering downstairs, he was surprised to see the dining area near empty except for Tom and Hagrid who looked like he was nursing a hangover. 'There ye are Harry. Want some breakfast?' Tom asked, and without missing a beat produced a plate of eggs, toast with marmalade, and sausage links, setting it before the boy who sat on the other end of Hagrid. 'Right then, after breakfast I can take you two outback and open the portal for ye all the way.'

'That'd be nice o' ye Tom,' Hagrid murmured, taking a swig of something that looked an awful lot like raw eggs.

'Thank you, sir.' Harry felt the insincere emptiness of his words as he proceeded to eat, surprised at how hungry he truly was. Some small part of him tingled with comforting warmth, tears threatening his eyes as Tom refilled his plate without a word and gave him a cup of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. He quickly shut the feelings away in the pool of his soul, with his anger and hatred. Again the apathy swallowed him as he mechanically made his way through breakfast.

'Right then, now ye two are ready?' Tom asked as they made their way out to the back of the Leaky Cauldron; they found themselves in a stonework enclosed area with two trash barrels and some scraggly weeds. 'Watch this here Harry, only a wand can do this so ye had better remember.' He eyed Hagrid wearily, but the man simply shrugged. Pulling out a reddened stick about ten inches in length, he proceeded to tap a series of stones whose shape was very much like a keyhole. As he tapped the last one, the stoned peeled back in a ripple until there was an archway big enough for even Hagrid to squeeze through.

'This 'ere leads to Diagon Alley, then. I'm sure I'll see you two sometime later,' Tom said, waving them off.

'Sir, what about these clothes?' Harry asked, pulling at the hooded sweatshirt that read, 'Gobstoppers Anonymous'.

Smiling, a sadness in his eyes, Tom replied, heading back to his tavern, 'Keep them, please. They look good on ye boy.'

* * *

Without really looking at anything, Harry kept his gaze at the ground as he shuffled behind Hagrid who was muttering under his breath. 'Anyway, ye got enough time for shoppin' later on since most shops don't open for another hour or so, but firstly we need to get wizard gold from the bank. Messaged Dumbledore last night after ye went up, an' he said yer parents left ye somethin'. I'm sure we talk to the goblins there, they'll sort it all out. I just have to grab somethin' at the bank, too, an' that'll be all I need, right.'

Harry glanced at what was before them, and his jaw dropped. A tall building shaped like a dome tunneling into the ground was at the end of the cobblestone. It was made from white marble whose pillars were carved with intricate scenes mostly of forests and gardens. Engraved on a gold sign were the words, 'Gringott's Wizarding Bank'. As he followed Hagrid into the building, he couldn't help but think the earthy smell that greeted them was welcoming. He continued to look at the entrance, which had a chandelier made from stained glass hanging from the ceiling, before his eyes lit on the doorman, who was bowing them into the bank.

'Welcome, sirs,' came a raspy voice. The creature that looked at them had bushy brows that nearly covered coal black eyes. He had a pug-like nose and thin lips pulled back into what looked like a smile. 'Are you retrieving, converting, or depositing today sirs?' He asked, fingers tight on the entrance door.

'Jus' retrieving today,' Hagrid grunted, as what Harry assumed was a goblin held the door open for them.

'Just head towards toward the desk over their on the far left and Griphook should be ready to help you sirs,' the goblin muttered, tipping a box-like hat at them.

Following in the wake of Hagrid, Harry couldn't help but feel the entire affair was a bit strange. He had never expected to see goblins living and breathing, and in a way it was even stranger to see them in uniform—a maroon tailcoat with large gold buttons whose sleeves stretched to holes where their spindly fingers poked out. He noticed that the boots they wore were actually just for show when one goblin walking with a stack of papers, quickly nudged the leather back in place, eyes darting about as if in fear of someone noticing.

They stopped at a desk with 'Retrieving' on a small sign with Griphook below it. 'There ye are then, Griphook, yes?' Hagrid ask as he fiddled in one of his pockets, laying out a golden key. 'Need somethin' from this vault and some paperwork and stuff for Mister Harry Potter.'

Looking up from his work, the goblin's coal eyes settled on Harry. He raised bushy brows, a crook touching the corner of his lips. 'Harry _Potter_ then?' He reached into his desk pulling out a greenish paper, eyes never leaving Harry's own. 'I just need you to sign this form with blood, if you will. This pen,' the goblin held out the utensil for the boy, who wrapped his fingers about it, 'is enchanted to painlessly take a small amount. It is just a precaution to ensure that you are, in fact, Mister Harry Potter.'

Harry hesitantly looked at the paper, shrugging his shoulders, and quickly signed his name. He felt a faint tingle in his hand as he scrawled, and was surprised as words in blood red changed to shining gold. 'There are you, Mister Griphook.'

Smiling, the goblin took the paper and pulled out a row of keys. 'I know why you are here, Mister Rubeus Hagrid. Your wizard lord, Albus Dumbledore, messaged in. This way, then, to the underground.' He hopped off of a stool, and lead the two towards a doorway behind his desk. The smell of damp earth and long untouched ground greeted them, comforting them. 'As we step into the cart, please remain seated and ensure that you keep yourself _in_ the cart. I would hate for you to lose any limbs as we will be traveling at quite a speed.'

Harry found Hagrid and Griphook leading him to a large mining cart, which they all promptly stepped into via a step ladder. Settling in, Hagrid leaned towards Harry the smell of day old alcohol strong on his breath. 'Alright there? This is the worst pat, 'Arry. Like riddin' a broom through a storm. Ye see, they got this cart contraption that goes _really_ fast. Nearly makes me sick every time. I try to avoid comin' here if I can.'

Crackly voice filled with humor, Griphook snorted and patted Harry's knee. 'It is just like the human contraption of a rollercoaster, young Potter. There is nothing to fear.'

Harry nodded at the goblin, taking comfort in the contact. For some reason he found the goblins more likable than the wizards he had so far encountered. He wondered if perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the goblins were an expected weirdness, whereas the wizards looked just as ordinary as the Dursleys. He gave Griphook an awkward smile as the cart began to take off picking up speed and roaring through the cavernous underground. The wind whistled past the cart, whipping Harry's hair and filling the boy with thrill. Just as suddenly as they had begun they inched to a stop and came to a screeching halt outside of a silver doorway with chains of gold bound across it.

'You have the key, Mister Hagrid?' the goblin asked as he tapped the cart. The wooden sides folded down into a ladder which Griphook and Hagrid stepped off of.

'I do,' the giant man muttered. Turning to look at Harry who had stood, Hagrid shook his head. 'Jus' stay in the cart while I go get what I must. This is secret stuff there, Harry.'

Sitting back down, Harry watched as Griphook went to the chains and whispered to them, pressing his lips to the soft metal. The chains shivered and pulled apart from the silver doorway, which also shivered revealing a tiny keyhole. 'The wall awaits it's partner, sir,' the goblin muttered, walking back to the cart and sitting across from Harry as Hagrid opened the door to the vault and stepped in. Harry couldn't make out what Hagrid grabbed, but whatever it was happened to be small because the giant man was able to tuck the object in with the shrunken motorcycle.

'Got it 'ere then. Jus' one more stop,' Hagrid said patting his stomach as he looked at the cart.

Nodding, Griphook licked a finger and wiped it on the wood, which once again became a part of the contraption as the cart sped forward continuing towards what was supposedly Harry's vault. This trip was longer and despite his eyes watering from the cold air that whipped past them, Harry found himself looking around. The caves glowed with iridescent light that seemed to move. 'Worms,' Griphook whispered, somehow loud enough for the boy to hear despite the whistling wind. 'They help to light the darkest pathways through the earth.'

Again, they slowed to a halt and this time Hagrid stayed in the cart, moving his head over the edge and belching loudly. Harry winced, feeling squeamish as the sound as he and Griphook made their way to a row of ordinary looking doors with keyholes and small gems above them. From inside a pocket, Griphook pulled out a key with a garnet at the end and passed it to Harry as they stopped before a door with a matching marker.

'This is the vault that was left to you by your parents,' Griphook said as Harry opened the door, which swung open revealing mountains of bronze, copper, silver, and golden coins. There were some other odds and ends that looked like pots, weapons, and jewelry tucked in the farther corners. 'This is a collection from the _Potter_ line—a line that has gone on for several generation.' Turning to face Harry, the goblin cocked his head and whipped at his flat nose with a sleeved arm. 'Mister Potter, could I ask you to please remind a Miss Evans about _her_ family vault?'

'Miss Evans?'

Sheepish, Griphook gave an awkward cough. 'In time then, Mister Potter. If you would then collect what you need of this vault, then we shall return to the surface.'

'This…this stuff is all mine, then?' Harry asked awkwardly. He looked at the riches before him and felt saddened. All the money and treasure before him were all he truly had of his parents—the parents he literally knew nothing about other than that they had died.

'Yes, sir. This was earned by the Potters and guarded by the goblins. We goblins have watched the history of the earth, and we have decided to be guardians of its creations.' Griphook waved his hand at what lay before them, a sad smile on his lips. 'We honour the wizards who respect this decision. Mister Potter, your family has our deepest respect. I hope to see a reciprocated respect.'

Surprised, Harry looked at Griphook and saw an ancient magick tightened about the goblin. 'Yes, sir. I-I would love to honour your ways and that of the earth. Um…Mister Griphook, I hate to bother you, but I don't even know how to go about this.'

Chuckling, Griphook pulled out a silk bag and began at a pile of bronze coins. 'It is your first year at Hogwarts, yes? I shall help you to calculate the amount you will need to take with you. If you ever need more money, please send message to me or Gringott's, and we shall take care of this Mister Potter.'

* * *

They stepped out of Gringott's and all around Diagon Alley Harry noticed people going to and from shops; some of the people wore robes and pointed hats, just like wizards in faerie stories. As he and Hagrid moved forward, Harry couldn't help but realize the stores were anything but ordinary and truly sold eye of newt, broomsticks for riding, and black cats in various sizes. Hagrid stopped just outside a robe store and scratched at his face. 'Ye okay Harry?'

'Yes, of course.' The boy was tired after going to the wizard's bank; he had the silk purse from Griphook tucked in his pocket. _Why are we stopping?_

'Well, ye see, I'm a bit green feelin' still. Not a huge fan of the cart ride an' whatnot. Anyway, I suppose if ye got yer list, ye can figure out where to go an' the like? I just wanna go to the Leaky Cauldron an' see if ol' Tom's got something fer me.' Hagrid looked apologetic, and hastily added, 'Of course, if yer really not sure I kin help ye.'

Burying an odd feeling of contempt for the giant man, Harry forced a smile. 'I'm sure I can figure it out on my own, Mister Hagrid.'

'Thank ye, 'Arry!' Hagrid clapped the boy on the shoulder and turned to head for the Leaky Cauldron. 'Just go in there to Madam Malkin's an' get yer robes. She's got to be the best stitch witch or so I've heard. She'll take care of ye.' With that Harry watched as the man walked away, a twinge of nervousness pulsing through him.

The shop he stood before was homey, painted in deep purple and with silver trim and velvet curtains covering the window. Harry opened the oak door, the welcome bell jingling as he stepped in. A heavyset woman stood by a desk and gave a brilliant smile to him as the door closed. 'Welcome to my shop, dear boy. Here for Hogwarts robes?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Harry muttered, eyes darting about. The kindly woman grabbed his arm and steered him into a fitting area where a boy with white blond hair stood with a woman fitting robes about him.

'Just get on up there and I will take care of you in a moment.'

* * *

With a sigh, Draco watched the mirror as the witch that fitted his robes hovered about him, waving her wand and stitching hems. The sound of the welcome bell made the woman stop what she was doing as Madam Malkin bustled in, leading a scrawny shaggy-haired boy. Raising a brow, Draco was surprised at a sickening tug on the blood of Malfoy; he could feel a hungry anger and sorrow that craved escape emanating from the boy. Quickly, Draco built up a shield against the emotional wave that tugged at him.

'Another one from Hogwarts,' Madam Malkin said absentmindedly as she pulled out a wand and roll of cloth. 'I'll take care of this.' The witch at Draco's side nodded and went back to her stitching, muttering the charm to fix the thread in place and prevent fraying.

As the scraggly boy settled on a step stool beside Draco, the other boy couldn't help but feel interested. Never before had he encountered someone with magick so powerful it tickled at his senses. 'Are you a first-year, then?' he asked casually.

The other boy looked up with wide green eyes, his face much like that of a deer in headlights. Hesitantly, he replied, 'I suppose so.'

Nodding, Draco turned back to stare absentmindedly at the velvet walls. _Obviously he doesn't like to be talked to directly._ 'I am, too, you know. Do you know about the houses? Which house you'll probably be in? You know, it can run in the family and whatnot.' There was a tug of hesitancy that ripped at the barrier Draco had erected and the boy shivered. _Truly remarkable,_ he thought barely glancing at his neighbor.

'Not really. I-I haven't really thought about houses and whatnot. I'm still kind of swallowing the whole thing.' Harry suddenly flinched, jaw dropping as he watched Madam Malkin wiggle her fingers at cloth and thread, watching it shrink and shift into a cloak. Silver fastening knotting to the fabric as if they had minds of their own.

Her lips quirked into a smirk, the woman raised an eyebrow at the boy. 'You'd think you'd never had a stitch witch handle your clothing.' Shaking his head, the dark haired boy sighed in resignation.

'My name's Draco Malfoy.'

The other boy tensed before meeting his eyes. 'I'm Harry.' A sense of relief seemed to spill out of him, just as suddenly quashed by overwhelming mistrust.

_Curious._ 'Do you mind if I ask what you're planning on doing after this? We should be done around the same time, I suppose.'

'I haven't thought about it. I suppose to get the rest of my supplies.'

_He's worried and apprehensive?_ Draco thought, utterly liking the ability to read the other boy's emotional distress. He like the power that licked at his own, and he found wonder at the magick that practically spilled out along with Harry's emotions. 'Do you want to get some ice cream, then?' the boy offered. 'I'm supposed to meet my mother at Fortescue's. If your parents don't mind, you can go shopping with us.' At the he realized he had said the wrong thing.

The boy stiffened and Draco was suddenly washed with a feeling of emptiness and felt sickeningly lonely. He almost choked, surprised at the strength of emotion that swamped him and glanced at the boy. _Someone's emotions are tainted with magick and _very_ powerful magick at that, _he thought watching the boy called Harry.

'My parents won't mind,' Harry muttered as the emotions were slowly bottled up and replaced with tender glee. 'Um, I would like that, actually.'

Wiping a tear that he hoped no one had noticed, Draco replied, 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Harry asked, perplexed.

'Your parents…they died?' Draco was grateful that both stitch witches paid the two's conversation on heed and he thought he even saw the madam wink at him as she worked.

Smiling sadly, the other boy nodded. 'It's okay. I don't remember them.'

* * *

'There you are dear,' Narcissa rose from the wicker chair she sat at, surprised to see her son holding the hand of a dark-haired youth. 'Who is your friend?'

Her son narrowed his eyes at her, a tense pleading behind them which she tucked away. 'Mother, this is Harry. I met him in the robe shop and was hoping he could go shopping with us, if that's all right.' The other boy looked nervous, and barely glanced at Narcissa.

Stretching out a hand, she took the thin white hand that her son held and smiled at the boy, wishing him warmth. 'You are more than welcome to join us Harry. You may call me Narcissa.' Glancing at her son, he gave her a subtle nod. 'But, are you sure it's alright to join us? Do you need to tell someone where you are?'

Hesitating, the scrawny boy shook his head, slowly pulling his hand out of hers. 'No, ma'am. I'm sure it's okay.' He stared at her feet, making her raise an eyebrow. 'Sorry to intrude.'

_There are so many walls in place, I'm unsure of which walls to knock down first and which are too firmly erected._ 'Really, Harry, it's not intrusion. Why don't we get some ice cream and get to know each other better? Draco? Would you mind ordering for us? Harry, why don't you sit with me?'

'I'll be back soon Harry.' The boy gave a grateful smile to her before trotting off.

Nodding, obvious unease in his posture as Harry took a seat at the table across from Narcissa, the woman decided it would reap more benefits to be blunt than subtle. 'It's rare for my son to take an interest in someone, Harry. If you don't mind me asking after your surname?'

She watched the boy scuff a well-worn sneaker on the ground and pick nervously at his nails before lifting his head and finally meeting her eyes with his own vibrant greens. 'My surname is Potter. I'm Harry Potter.'

Narcissa was surprised and hid the shock away as she carefully looked at his haggard face. There was the unruly hair and plush features of his parents, the same eyes and need for glasses—finally she lit on a scar barely hidden beneath scraggly bangs. A lightning bolt remnant of a curse gone wrong.

'Ah yes,' she said, a smile touched her lips as she nodded knowingly and lifted a hand. 'Do you mind?' Narcissa waited for a hesitant nod before lifting his hair free from the scar and tracing a finger across the soft skin. She felt him shiver beneath his touch, and pulled away. 'The scar from the Dark Lord and the mark of a curse. Do you understand this, Harry?'

She could tell she had surprised the boy. _Why is he so weary around adults especially?_

'No, I don't, ma'am. I-I don't know much about it, actually.'

'There's no need to be so polite, Harry.' Narcissa nodded towards her son, who stood arms crossed waiting for their ice cream. 'I can already tell that you mean my son no harm. However, I _am_ curious as to who you are here with. That is, if you don't mind me asking, where are your guardians?'

He looked down at the ground, making warning bells sound in Narcissa. _Something is terribly wrong._

'I d-don't really want to talk of it. Anyway, I'm here with a man name Hagrid. He said he was from Hogwarts.'

_What in the name of Merlin is going on!_ Narcissa found herself shocked, something that didn't happen often. Outwardly she patted the boys hand as her son came over balancing ice cream on a tray. 'I see. Actually, I need to contact someone really quickly before we eat. Go ahead and enjoy some time alone with Draco. He'll keep you entertained until I get back.'

* * *

'As you can see, it's almost like stepping into a Renaissance Fair,' the wizened McGonagal said, steering them about the streets of Diagon Alley. 'Just as you operate in your everyday lives, we, too, operate in much the same way—you with technology and we with magick.'

Hermione's father gave her hand a squeeze. 'This is definitely interesting. I never would have imagined that all this would be in London.'

Hesitating, the woman glanced at Hermione as if confirming that the girl would understand. 'Well, I'm not sure if this concept would make any sense to you, but Diagon Alley functions outside of your reality in a way. This is part of a space of pure magick. These pockets exist all around the world and are only accessible through certain spaces.

'Part of it is to protect the wizards and magickal creatures and part of it is to protect people who don't have magick. Sadly, we are far from peacefully coexisting and much of it escalated during witch hunts and wars. As I'm sure you'll understand, humans, magick or non-magick, are far from understanding that which is different, and often times the reaction is…'

'…to retaliate,' Hermione said, finishing the older woman's sentence, a small smile her only response. 'I know this very well. I did an extensive study of the books that you sent me this summer. Just as our history is wrought with war and misunderstanding, the wizard world, too, has similar events.'

Laura, her mother, gave her a sideways glance, running her fingers through her thick hair in nervousness. 'Yes, well, this does worry me a bit. I mean, is there anything going on currently in…your world that we should be aware of? If you don't mind me saying, Theo and I are a bit out of our element with all this.'

Nodding her head, McGonagall pushed her square glasses up her nose. 'As I can understand, but no. The last war that affected Britain ended nearly ten years ago, and since then the Ministry of Magick has gone through great length to restructure and tend to not only our government but that of the entire wizarding world. Just as you have a United Nations, wizards have something similar—the Wizarding Nations Alliance.'

The girl felt her father's hand twitch and could sense the hesitancy in his voice. 'That is…very interesting. Comparative to the United Nations, you say…?'

Before McGonagall could respond, Hermione's mother cut in. 'Well, dear, we already went to the bank and got your robes. What do you suggest for us, Minerva? I'm _so_ grateful that you have the time to ferry us around. I would be completely turned around if it wasn't for you.'

Laura flashed her daughter a smile, which made Hermione warm. Despite the fact that she was quite intelligent for her age, she realized that her parents had a body language all of their own. Some special way to communicate when to back off and when to change the subject.

McGonagal, perhaps oblivious to the subject change, clapped her hands together. 'Well, I'm more than happy to! Why don't we go find ourselves a place to rest. I can already tell you have many questions you wish to ask.'

* * *

Toying with her spoon, Ginny bit down on the wide part and flicked at the end letting it vibrate against her teeth. With a sigh, she pulled the spoon out and sighed. 'I can't _believe_ he'd just leave us here! Just because he was on call, shouldn't he have just waited or have Mum take us instead?'

Glaring at her, Ron muttered, 'At least he left us with some money. I mean, it's not like I need to get much.' His face turned a rosy shade of red. 'I got Percy's old robes, Charlie's old books, Mum had potion supplies—all I really needed was a wand.'

'But still!' Ginny all but whined. She relented when she saw Ron's mood becoming more and more defensive towards their father. 'Sorry. I'm just tired.' Avoiding a possible blow up, she turned her attention to two boys who sat on the other end of the storefront.

One had scraggly black hair and thick black glasses. He looked sickly with pallid skin and flimsy limbs. His companion was beautiful. _Like an ice prince,_ she thought. Platinum blond hair fell just past the youth's ears in a soft curl at the end. He had piercing grey eyes, which she noticed darted from the boy to their very own table.

'Who do you think those boys are over there?' Ron asked, practically craning his neck to gawk at them. 'I haven't seen 'em before so they can't be from the village.'

'Those two? Well, the blond boy must be a pureblood. Look at his clothes! But the other boy? I think he may be _muggle_-born. Anyway, obviously they're not related. They're practically light and dark; they look like complete opposites.'

Snorting, Ron turned spooning an ungodly amount of dripping ice cream into his mouth. 'That blond fellow practically looks like a bloody girl, and the other looks like a homeless bum or something. I doubt a pureblood would hang out with something that looks as though the gnome dragged him in.'

Cheeks flaming, Ginny stood so fast her seat scraped nearly a foot back. 'Ron!' She stared at the blond youth who had nonchalantly rose with the other boy trailing behind him.

Without a sound the boy leaned forward until his lips were close to her brother's ear and whispered, 'If you have something you wish to ask or say about us, the more honorable thing would be to come out and ask versus gossiping loudly enough for everyone to hear.'

Ron almost tipped his seat over as he rose backpedaling away from the shorter boy. 'What business is it of yours what I say? It's not of your business you bloody prat!'

'Ron, please knock it off!' Ginny wanted nothing more than to punch her brother in the face, hoping to knock some sense into him. Turning to the boys, she bowed her head. 'I'm sorry about this.'

The blond haired boy raised an eyebrow, his companion ever silent. 'Ron, is it? Apologize. You voice carried all the way to our table. Why should your younger sister have to apologize for _your_ rudeness, Weasley?' Finally the other boy grabbed his companion's shirt sleeve tugging on it.

'Why should I apologize to you! You look like a bloody fag!' Ron all but snarled reaching in a bag by their table and pulling out a foot long holly stick.

'RONALD WEASLEY! PUT YOUR _WAND_ AWAY!'

'Not until this lot backs off!'

The black haired boy tugged again at Draco's shirt, a look of intense concentration on his face. 'Draco, it's okay really. Let's just go wait for your mum to get back. I really don't mind.'

The ice prince's face seemed to melt into sincere empathy, practically flooring Ginny. Despite the hostile environment she treated the other boy as though he were walking on glass. 'Are you sure Harry?' The dark haired youth nodded and Draco turned to walk off. 'Very well. Not like I would expect much better behavior from a Weasley.'

'What's that supposed to mean!' Ron spat. 'I-I know who you are now! You're a Malfoy. One of the Dark Wizards. Where are your parents? Off torturing someone?' Ginny rolled her eyes, praying that Draco wouldn't take the bait.

'You will _desist_, Weasley, or I'll comment on your own family's skeletons. How would you like me saying something about your mum or useless father?' With that, the boy turned his back and headed back for their table, but Ginny saw her brother hand go up and his wand swing into motion.

'_Blod icche!_' The curse echoed and made Ginny's jaw drop. Not only had her brother just cast a curse on someone, but he had cast it with his opponent's back turned.

Clenching her eyes, she waited for Draco to drop to the ground—his whole body would be pulsing with the sensation that it itches to the very center of his being. Instead, she felt a chill in the air. When she looked up she saw that there was a giant bubble of thin ice around the two boys.

The black haired boy looked at Ron with utter disgust; his face distorted from the ice. '_You_ will _stop!_'

'Yes. You. Will.' The voice made the four all whirl around. Ginny realized they had a small audience. There was an older witch in a green suit, her hands on her hips and a severe look on her face, amplified by a pair of square glasses that perched on her nose. Beside her was a group of obvious _muggles_, the couple having their hands protectively on the should of a bushy hair girl.

A lithe blonde hurried over and stopped by the ice barricade. 'Harry, dear. It's alright now. You can pull the barrier down.' Ginny's jaw dropped when the barricade melted into nothing and realized that the boy Harry had created a barrier without a wand in hand.

* * *

Narcissa couldn't believe the power that had practically hummed in her veins when she came upon her son and his new friend surrounded by a magick barricade. She took the situation in quickly and turned to Minerva. 'McGonagall. I'm glad you're here. I believe we have some things that need to be spoken about and spoken about now.'

Without waiting for a response, she strode over to the Weasley siblings. 'Children,' she said, including her son and Harry, 'you _will_ remain here at _separate_ tables, and _you_ Mister Weasley will hand over your wand.'

As she expected, the boy snarled, 'You're not my parent!' but his tirade burned out as his sister snatched his wand and passed it to Narcissa's outstretched hand. 'Ginny!'

'Here you go, Misses Malfoy,' Ginny whispered, her head bent. 'I sincerely apologize for my brother's behavior. It was uncalled for.'

Smiling at her, Narcissa tilted the girl's chin and stared into the warm brown eyes that looked back at her. _A wise child. Much like her mother._ 'You are a Weasley as well, then? I thank you for your apology, dear. You're not in any trouble. Are your parents about?'

'I-I can contact our mother. She'll want to know what's happened,' Ginny said, pulling out a necklace that looked like a bean dangled off the end of it. 'She can apparate here in a moment's time.'

'Would you do that, dear? I know your mother.'

* * *

Minerva was surprised to be sitting at the table with Narcissa Black-Malfoy. Though the other woman hadn't fought in the war, her husband had and Narcissa _was_ a witch who practice dark arts; Minerva had been on the opposite side, fighting against the darkness. She took a sip of her coffee, reveling in the bitter taste that coated her tongue. 'Narcissa, what is it you need to speak about? I'm touring a _muggle_ family right now.'

'I'm sorry,' the younger woman said, weariness in her melodic voice, 'but it cannot wait.'

Molly had arrived shortly before, giving a death glare to her children before accepting her son's wand. 'I too, am curious why you would wish to speak with me.' She gave Narcissa a wry smile, a twinkle in her eye. 'It's not as though our family were on good terms.'

Nodding her head, Narcissa gave the older woman a soft smile. 'Despite our magickal beliefs, Molly, I have the utmost respect for your trade.'

'I, too, respect you Narcissa. During the Dark War you showed me that a Dark Witch does not necessarily mean evil.'

Minerva cocked her head. _I didn't realize that the two had had some form of confrontation._

Setting down her iced tea, Narcissa leaned forward, her face serious. 'You still serve the Pride of Guardians?'

Molly straightened in her chair, her eyes darting to the children; the Grangers had been led off to a bookstore while they talked. 'Yes…what is this about?'

Without answering, Narcissa turned to McGonagall. 'Minerva, would you place a _very_ troubled boy into the care of Rubeus Hagrid? Despite that he is you friend,' she glanced at Molly, 'of both of you, he is a reckless drunk'

Closing her eyes, Minerva took care to reply. 'Of course I wouldn't. Hagrid may be my friend; however, he is too immature at times, and as you said reckless. I don't' know how many times he has been lecture even by Dumbledore about his drinking habits.'

Satisfied, Narcissa leaned back and looked over at her son and his companion. 'Do you know the fate of Harry Potter?'

Knocking over her drink, Molly quickly mopped at it with her handkerchief before pulling out her wand and drying the table. 'Harry? You mean, Lily and James's son? Why,' she looked up startled, 'he would be of age wouldn't he? Wait…you're not saying that the boy over there is him!' Her eyes were wide in understanding. 'Oh dear Goddess, that poor boy.'

Minerva nodded her head, lips tight. 'He is sickly and doesn't have enough weight on him for a boy his age. Isn't he with his guardians? Unless, they're the reason for this?'

'I believe so,' the blonde woman replied. 'I know my son, and he has a habit of bringing me strays. Something is very damaged about that boy.'

'Then who is he here with?'

Molly shook her head. 'With Hagrid. That's why you asked.'

'Yes. I would take him to the Malfoy manor, but I am not in a position to do so. I have messaged some of the school's governors, however. I will tend to him for the day; though, I believe they agree with me on this point. He will not be under the care of Hagrid and he should not be going back to his guardians.'

'Let me think, usually the governors would place a child in need with…' Minerva rubbed at her temples.

'…a teacher at the school. Who is at the school now?'

'The only one who is staying the entire summer is Severus.'

Narcissa couldn't help but give both women a knowing smile. 'I know Severus well. I will owl him and send Harry to him after we are done for the day. You two agree with this?'

'My gods yes. That boy is in serious need of help.'

Minerva sighed, but nodded her head in consent. 'And despite Severus's cold exterior, he, as your son, has a habit of picking up strays. It will be good for them. As it stands, Harry seems to have an unnatural knack for wandless magick, and Severus is adept at it. It's ironic, but the two are certainly meant to meet each other.'

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Sorry, this chapter feels a little off to me (I think it's because I'm crazy busy lately). :"( I feel like maybe I need to tweek some things since there's so much going on! Anyway, it may be another week before another chapter. I'm moving back to South Korea this Friday, so I'll be really busy. T_T;;; Sorry! Thank you for following and reading. Sorry if this chapter isn't up to snuff.**


	13. 10 A Step

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part II Unfortunate Spell – Chapter 10 A Step**

**NOTE: **Sorry this took so long to get up. I didn't mean to take a two month+ long hiatus from this story; however, after moving I got food poisoning, was hit by a car while walking, had my wallet stolen, etc., etc., so needless to say I've been very exhausted. Sorry. This chapter is probably a little disappointing after it took me so long to get up - it's really short compared to other chapters.

* * *

The sickly sweet smell of musty rot was refreshing as he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and laying a hand over them. When the letter had first arrived he had considered throwing it into the fire, but after a quick reread, the better part of him had sat down at the desk and puzzled over it. He would have preferred to be in his quarters just above the dungeons instead of in his classroom office, but it was the only place that Dumbledore didn't pry. As much as he owed the wizened man for saving and taking him in, Severus still couldn't shake his need for privacy especially around a wizard such as the headmaster.

_From a Dark Lord to a Light Lord_, he found himself thinking numbly, sitting back up and looking at the letter addressed to his Spinner's End home. _The only difference between the two is where their purposes lie and oftentimes where they believe the right path should be._

Sighing, he pulled out some parchment and began to scratch out a response with his quill, several lines being crossed out and ink dotting more than one sentence in exasperation. 'How the bloody hell am I supposed to write someone like this!?' he groaned, glaring at the picture that sat on his desk—a taunting memory.

It was from his childhood and one of the only times he could remember being honestly happy. In the frame was the image of his mother and him smiling and waving at the camera, beside them was the pureblood family that lived next to them. It had been at the local fair and several of the wizarding families had gotten together selling trinkets and snacks, putting on performances—_And that was where I met you two,_ he thought glaring at the photo.

Before his reminiscing could go any further, a sharp tap on his office door made him turn, his chair creaking. He raised an eyebrow at the man who leaned his bulk against the doorframe. 'Crabbe. What brings you here? Surely there are other people you can bother. Then again, it's my misfortune I'll probably be seeing a lot more of you at the school whenever it pleases your fancy since your son is starting here this September.'

The other man gave a smirk, his charcoal eyes alight. 'Narcissa asked me to come,' Vince said, toying with the tail end of his curly brown hair and ignoring Severus's comments. 'On behalf of the school governors you, Severus Snape, are now in charge of a Mister Harry Potter until school's beginning in less than two months time.' The man carefully emphasized the boy's name before continuing. 'There is also to be almost no contact with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as requested by the House of Black.

'Lucky you to be paired with Potter, isn't it?'

A nerve in Severus twitched at the latter comment, but he only said, 'As to why Dumbledore is to not contact Mister Potter, you will be telling me, Crabbe' Severus said, slowly standing to stretch and lean on his desk. He could feel a certain tension in the air as Vince watched him, noticing the other man's hand going to his shirt sleeve where his wand was mostly likely tucked. _Not like I would need to pull a wand out Crabbe,_ he thought letting his own lips curl into a smirk. 'Narcissa wouldn't call on a relative to the House of Black if it was merely about _the_ Harry Potter.

Vince burst into a rich laugh, which made Severus grind his teeth. The other man had always been flippant, part of the reason he was able to stay hidden in the shadows when he was a Death Eater. 'You truly suspect everything, Snape. That aside, you're right. Narcissa would hardly ask me to come if it weren't of some importance and I would have told you anyway, gibe comments aside.'

Nonchalantly, Vince strode into the office until his was only a few inches from Severus, making the hair on the back of the man's neck stand on end. 'It's good, Snape, that you're talented at _occlumency_,' he said casual, leaning forward until Snape could feel his hot breath on his ear. 'The boy can use wandless magick.'

The whisper was stained with magick, which Snape mental brushed away trying not to shudder at the proximity of the other man. With a cackle, Vince backed off and slapped Severus jokingly on the arm. 'Really, Snape. I've missed these moments. Others cave too quickly.'

'You certainly have seduction down to an art,' Severus muttered, yawning widely, not bothering to cover his mouth. 'As for the boy, why should I care? Certainly _accidentals_ are usual at his age.'

Raising an eyebrow, Vince shook his head. 'Ah, but creating an barrier impenetrable to minor spells _with_ control _and_ without a wand? Narcissa would never waste her time on something so simple as _accidentals._ Don't tell me you're going to let some childhood bullshit leave you blind to what this means.'

Severus barely caught himself before he responded; some part of him ached with a sharp retort. Instead, he found the gearts in his head turning as his thoughts went back to the letter he had received only earlier that day. Only dark wizards and witches dared to use wandless magick, and of course children had _accidentals_ all the time; however, it was another thing entirely if the power of Harry Potter had caught the attention of a dark witch such as Narcissa.

'I see,' he finally responded, feeling as though his brain were going to explode with all the twists and turns that had recently sprung up in his life. 'I will mind Harry Potter and ensure he stays out from under Dumbledore's watch. Tell me more about what has happened that Narcissa would worry to this extent. I can tell when you're playing games, Crabbe. Enough of this.'

* * *

The hazy swirl of green suddenly ended as the fireplace ejected him into a dimly lit room. Harry was relieved to see Narcissa was there waiting for him on the other end, and quickly found himself looking around the room he had appeared in. It was a small sitting area with a hardback chair and small sofa. The carpeting was a soft brown, and the walls had scrolls depicting wars in various colours of red and blue. With the dancing flames being the only light, Harry felt almost cozy in the darkened space.

'On time, I see, Narcissa,' a man with pasty white skin opened the door, his black cloak suffocating and ominous. Harry couldn't help but feel tension as their eyes met. 'And of course Mister _Potter_.'

Suddenly his scar burned, and the boy felt the strange tingle he was beginning to associate with magick creep in defense. Rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, he glared at the dark haired man twisting that strange defense into a shield. He didn't know why he did it, but he knew that he had to. With that, the other man flinched and a look of amusement crept over his lips.

'You really do bring me the most interesting…things, Narcissa,' the man slowly answered, nodding his head at Harry.

'Severus, you have heard all from Vince,' Narcissa said this without asking, a slight incline to her head. 'Then you know the protection of the House of Black?'

Chuckling, the other man sat down in the chair, reclining back into almost a slouch. Harry was surprised, but quickly realized this was the man's way of telling Narcissa to back off and that they were, in fact, in his space. _Just last night with the Dursleys and now all this with magick and wizards_, he thought, a little numb to the subtle dance that the two adults were playing at. _I feel like a bystander._

'Harry, this is Severus Snape,' Narcissa said, a look of concern on her face.

'Hello, sir,' he said, clenching his teeth. He was sick of it all. His brain was swimming with the entire day, the Dursleys – he felt the chasm of his heart opening up and quickly slammed down on it like a sledge hammer suddenly feeling dizzy. 'Is there some place I can lie down?' Harry did his best to look exhausted, which didn't take much.

'Go through that door and the guest room you'll be staying in has been arranged, boy,' Snape said pointing to a door just next to the fireplace. 'We'll discuss certain things in the morning.' He was glaring at Narcissa who returned the hardened stare with one just as fierce. 'You've had a hard time, boy, so go rest and let your magick relax or you'll be feeling it in a few days time.'


	14. 11 A Step and Understanding

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part II Unfortunate Spell – Chapter 11 A Step and Understanding**

**About:** Just because you seem like a good person, doesn't mean you are. Sometimes the best way to forget is to move on. The best way to understand is to pay attention to details.

* * *

Things were not going quite as planned, the old man realized as he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He had moved the rocking chair over to the window and was staring out at the sunset in its rosy reds and vibrant oranges. Everything had been carefully laid out for nearly thirty years and already he could start to see his careful work unraveling. It was too late to realize his mistake when the school governors sent him an owl about having found Hagrid in a drunken state and Harry Potter nowhere in sight.

_And my luck has him discovered by Misses Malfoy,_ he thought, pausing. His eyes roamed up in apprehension to the portrait of an old headmaster who was snoring lazily in his frame. All headmasters had to cast a memory of themselves into enchanted paper and remain as watchers and guides for the current headmaster. The particular headmaster he stared at was a now deceased member of the House of Black. He couldn't help but remember the last two members of that house and sighed.

A chirping brought his attention to the phoenix who perched on the limb of his dragon tree. 'Fawks, surely I haven't done this wrong?' he finally asked, but the creature only blinked at him and turned his attention to the window.

Dumbledore would never admit that he was feeling a sense of worry. _I will just have to bend some things otherwise everything will be for naught. Certainly Severus's loyalty to me will help keep young Harry on the path he was destined to be on._

He leaned back, closing his eyes, feeling the magick he had weaved around the protective barrier of Hogwarts, and checked to make sure that Harry was indeed in the castle, tucked into Severus's private quarters. A hiss of magick snapped at him as he tried to get closer to the boy causing the man to jerk in surprise. He wasn't sure whose magick it was, but someone was trying to hide the child.

_No matter. I will see to Harry soon enough._

* * *

Severus numbly toyed with the letter from Petunia staring blankly at his potions cabinet. He had spent a better part of the night weaving and reweaving barrier spells with Narcissa trying to keep Harry's magick under control and in order to hide the obvious power behind it. The boy had caught him by surprise especially being able to sense and deflect his _occlumency _with subtle ease.

_I knew that he would be strong from what Vince had told me, but I hadn't quite anticipated magick that..sings._ With a sigh, he sat the letter down and stretched up towards the ceiling. He knew he would have to go and speak with the boy, who had fallen asleep shortly after arriving at Hogwarts. _But I'm unsure if I can separate Evans and Potter from their son._

The better part of his morning had been spent going over the childhood he had shared with the Evans sisters and James Potter. The falling out he had had with the sisters had made him nearly forget Petunia and aside from the war, he had hardly any dealings with Lily. _And then there's Potter_. He almost growled outright remember the golden boy of Gryffindor.

_If ever I have hated a teacher's pet, _he bitterly thought, rising and heading for his rooms. James Potter had been far from the strong and witty jock he appeared to be. Teachers lavished him because his parents had passed when he was quite young. They had let him get away with the pranks he pulled and destruction he caused with his friends, and when it had come down to his and the oldest Black's expulsion, _Dumbledore had failed me._

* * *

Harry felt well rested after collapsing in exhaustion on the bed that the professor had prepared for him. At one point during his sleep, he thought he had heard Narcissa and the deep voice of Severus Snape talking, but he couldn't tell if it was real or in his imagination. Lost in thought as he stared up at the ceiling in the early morning light, he was surprised when something banged on the window of the room.

Glancing over, he stared in awe at a snowy owl that looked familiar from the day before. _There's no way,_ he thought, rising and unlatching the window. The white bird flapped over to the bedpost and hooted at him; tucked in her mouth was a cylinder which Harry took from the affectionate creature who in turn nipped at his fingers.

He undid the tube and pulled out a letter, which had been hastily scrawled. He also found a charm bracelet with a strange rune etched on it.

Dear Harry:

I hope you like your present! I'm sure you're surprised, but Mother told me your birthday is next week—I couldn't wait though. You can name her as you wish. The only way to contact me at the mansion is by owl post, so she's just as much for my sake as yours. Mother wants you to write at least once a week about how Professor Snape is treating you and says we'll visit a week before school starts! The owl knows the manor so just tell her where to take any post and she'll fly there. Yesterday was fun! (Except for a certain ginger prat. :C) Hear from you soon, Harry!

-Draco Malfoy

PS Wear the bracelet. It's my REAL present to you. Happy birthday!

Fastening the bracelet to his wrist, Harry couldn't help but smile as he remembered the rest of the day in Diagon Alley. After the fight with the red haired boy, Narcissa, Misses Weasley, and Professor McGonagall had explained to him about the procedure of Hogwarts and how he would go to stay with Severus Snape for the rest of the holiday. Everyone had been sickeningly nice to him as they talked except for Narcissa, who had looked calculating the whole time, and Draco, who afterward grumbled about Weasley being a stupid prig.

After a long day of shopping they had ended the day by going Otte's Owls & Other Fowl and looking at the various kinds of birds from harmless looking owls to fierce cockatrice chicks. Harry had found himself staring longingly at the very bird who had made herself comfortable on the bedpost. He had never seen owls aside from pictures in books and the one that had given him his letter, and the snowy owl before him had given him a feeling of strength and freedom he has never before imagined.

'Thank you,' he muttered, feeling the first honest emotion since his relative's house.

A knock on the door startled him, and he wasn't prepared for the door to simply open, quickly rubbing at his eyes for tears that had started to fall. Before him stood the wizard from the night before in a dark suit that reminded Harry of a church priest. Again he felt a twinge of animosity from the man who glared at him behind bangs, which he pushed back running his long spindly fingers through his dark hair.

'Good morning, Harry Potter.'

* * *

Severus noticed that the boy hadn't changed his clothes from the night before and barely glanced at the owl who puffed up her chest feathers and let out a hiss much like a cat would. 'Surely you know where the owlery is? Off with you.' The snowy owl took her time spreading her wings and casting off, almost knocking into the man as she swooped around the room and out the open window.

'Good morning, sir,' Harry said, his eyes on the floor, posture defensive.

'We will see about that,' Severus muttered, closing the door behind him and leaning against the solidness. 'Take a seat, Potter. We have things we should discuss about your being here.'

He watched the boy slump onto the bed, still not looking up as he crossed his arms around himself and stared at the ground. 'Your school things are arranged on that shelf at least until term starts. By that time you will be sorted into a school house and will move there to live with the other students. Now, I don't believe in idleness. Even though term hasn't started you might as well start learning. On the desk over there,' he pointed to the oak counter he had arranged for the boy, 'I have set up some work that I expect you to present to me every night.'

'Yes, sir.'

'I also expect you to follow my requests. If I tell you to clean the bathroom, I expect you to do it. Now, if you leave my suite I expect you to notify me where you will be going, though I suggest you don't wander about because the castle is huge and you _will_ get lost. Do not bother me unless it's something dire such as you accidently chopping off a limp. Food will be brought to you by house elf. Place your laundry and trash into the labeled baskets by your bed. The shower is located just before my rooms. You. Will. Not. Enter. My. Chambers. Understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then get to work, Potter,' Severus snapped, quickly leaving the room and letting the door bang shut behind him. He wanted to kick himself. He shouldn't have let himself get carried away.

While talking to the boy he had found himself looking for the Potter and Evans that he felt surely had to be there. Harry had the same tousled black hair of James Potter and even sported glasses just like father had; however, that's where the similarities ended. _He is neither arrogant nor does he have the build of his father._ Even the green eyes, despite being similar to Lily's own, were wider and almost chilling. _Like staring into a storm._

Severus found himself in his personal chambers, lit by a single lamp and the only window covered with a dark curtain. He collapsed into the sofa with relief, the tension in his body drifting away. Narcissa had been right about the boy, he realized. If anything Harry Potter was how he himself had been as a boy. Malnourished. Untrusting. Obedient to a point.

_If I am to train and care for this boy, I am going to have to forgive,_ Severus realized bitterly as he relaxed into his thoughts, remembering moments and times he wished he could erase. He had dealt with the poison of Potter and Evans for nearly twenty years, something that he was finding hard to forget.

* * *

Harry was relieved that night as he finished pouring over the reading and written work that Snape had assigned to him. In a way, it was refreshing that the professor had given him work to do. _Work that explains things to me_. Magick, potions, wizards, spells—it was all becoming somewhat normal in his mind and the growing pressure he had felt was slowly abating. The only thing he hadn't brought himself was use his wand. He stared at it feeling chill at the memory of visiting the store where he had bought it.

Harry had found himself marveling again at how peculiar Diagon Alley was. The sun was already high in the sky; however, some people were still wearing heavy cloaks that billowed out as they walked. There were folk in simple jeans and shirts, and others in leathers and fur. Narcissa led them to a side street that went uphill, which with little effort the three climbed until they reached a small shop called, "Ollivander's".

Narcissa held the door open as they stepped in and Harry nearly jumped as his skin tingled. His eyes grew wide as some part of him realized that entire shop was soaked in magick, which practically sang to his very depth.

'Welcome, Narcissa Black Malfoy. Draco Black Malfoy,' came a rich bass from behind a counter. Harry found himself staring at a chalk white man with glowing gold eyes, his pockmarked face drawn into a predatory grin. 'And Harry Evans Potter. The song has begun and already soldiers have come to your side, young lord.'

The boy shivered as the man spoke. Something about the shop and the being before him made him want to run away, just as much as the deep hum of magick made him want to stay.

'You speak in riddles well, wand maker,' Narcissa cut in, waking Harry from his stupor. 'As usual your twisted tongue plunges into waters better untraveled at the moment.'

Bowing his head in mockery, the wand maker muttered, 'Forgive me, cousin. I merely see what you do.'

Draco leaned close to Harry and muttered, 'He's not really a cousin. Usually purebloods refer to each other as 'cousins' especially if they're of the same alliance—a dark wizard or a light wizard.'

Wanting to ask more, Harry couldn't because the wand maker had stepped around the counter, holding out a hand for him to shake. Hesitantly he took the hand, and was intoxicated with the magic that was sunk into the man. He stared up wide-eyed, startled at the magicks he felt.

'Ollivander, Mister Potter,' the shock-white man nearly purred, as his eyes crinkled into a grin. 'Yes. Your wand has been waiting your hand for these past few years. It told me you would come for it, unknowing and not yet seeing. It _didn't_ tell me the promise you are. You will do great things, Little Potter, as you uncoil and roar into this world so too shall you slay and save it.'

Harry jerked his hand free, but it throbbed with warmth from the creature he had just encounter. _I don't know how I know it, but whatever Ollivander is, he isn't human._ He glanced over to Draco but he had wandered over to glance over wands on display; Narcissa, though, was watching both the wand maker and Harry like a hawk, calculating yet protective. _A man with golden eyes who knows your name with a glance is a man I want little to do with, _he thought shivering.

* * *

'Sir?' the boy's voice was so hesitant Severus barely heard it.

Somehow he had convinced both himself and the boy that they should try to at least have dinner together in the living area, a small table set up by the fireplace where they at roasted chicken, green leaf salad, and a sauté. 'Yes, Potter? What is it?' He raised an eyebrow waiting for some silly question regarding the workload or a complaint at the lack of sweets.

'Why do wizards use wands?'

He stopped chewing his food and stared. 'Excuse me?'

Potter made eye contact with him and Severus was taken aback. There was an intelligence and insightfulness there he had missed. Again the man was reminded he wasn't dealing with a mere boy, nor was he dealing with the boy's parents. It was unsettling to realize that he, a grown man and expert in the mind had somehow fallen into an uncomfortable pattern of surprise and underestimation in regards to Harry Potter.

'Well, I haven't used a wand, but somehow I have used magick. I read that because of my age they're called _accidentals_ and that many children from non-wizard families have a hard time understanding what exactly magick is; however, I-I've been willing using it.'

'Potter.' The boy cringed as though he were going to be struck. 'Keep what you have said to yourself. Light wizards do not practice wandless magick and in this day and age to use wandless magick volitionally is damning yourself to the stigma of being a dark wizard. You are hardly wrong in what you are doing or what you are asking.'

He could teach the boy. The realization was warming and nearly erased the bitterness he still had towards the child's parents. Harry Potter was moldable just like all of the children Severus had taught. _And I will teach this child who is already world weary._ As they made their way through their dinner, Severus proceeded to explain the history behind wizards and their wands.


	15. 12 A Rocky Slope

**Pale in the Shadows**

**Part II Unfortunate Spell – Chapter 12 A Rocky Slope**

**Note: **Sorry it took me so long to post again. I will just say I was in a bad situation where writing was the last thing I could do and only recently got out of it. I apologize for the potential shortness of this chapter as well, but I hope to get back to writing this and posting every other day.

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He knew he should probably go back to the professor's rooms, but the summer air was too refreshing as he rested in the cooling breeze, soaking up the sun. Hogwarts itself was nice, but sometimes stifling and confusing. The professor had recently allowed him leave to go to the library or even outside, but there were trick staircases with steps that would vanish or lead him a completely different direction on a Tuesday than on a Wednesday.

When he had asked the professor about it, the man had said, 'It's because of all the loose magick. Thousands of students have attended this school and all the magick they throw off and radiate must go somewhere. It's changed the school. We're also in the midst of a magickal forest warped and manipulated with old wild magick.'

'The forest? Is it safe then?' Harry found himself asking. Some part of him had ached to go into the woods to explore—the magick in the air calling to him, tugging and pulling him in.

The professor had paused for a minute in his meal, chewing his food slowly. 'It's wild, Harry. Animals anywhere are dangerous unless they're tame. Imagine if they had magick, poisons man has never seen, teeth and claws, and whatever else the imagination can create. Is it safe? The question is do you dare find out how 'safe' the forest is.'

This brought Harry to staring at the forest he could see on the opposite end of the lake. If he relaxed his vision, he could see a wispy white haze much like a bubble curling up and back towards the castle. He had come to learn it was a barrier of magick surrounding the castle, keeping the forest back and helping to protect the students.

A throat clearing was all Harry got for warning. The boy jerked up to his feet, his magick snapping to his body in defense as he stared up at an elderly man with a white beard that spilled out to mid-navel. Perched on the man's thin nose were a pair of half-moon glasses. He wore a set of spangled maroon robes and a matching pointed hat.

'Sorry to have startled you, dear boy. I haven't had the opportunity to make your acquaintance with all that went on concerning your circumstances. I'm Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.' The man held out a hand in greeting, but Harry just looked at it.

_He scares me_, he realized suddenly. Despite the kindness that radiated off the man, there was a pressure beyond that of Harry's magick. _It's _his_ magick. All I can feel is the force of it against my own, grating. I feel like I'm about to explode._ This made the boy feel a trickle of icy anger towards the old man.

'Yes sir. I have to be going,' he said impolitely, giving the man a nod. 'Professor Snape is expecting me.'

The old man chuckled, and waved his wand, which he had pulled from a pocket at his side, at the ground. Harry watched in shock as grass and earth billowed up becoming two chairs. He motioned at the one closest to Harry and the boy realized he had no choice but to sit and stay. Harry did his best to focus the growing maelstrom of pressure into the well he felt was his heart. It physically hurt to do so, but he dumped the feelings in with his rage.

'I really do need to be having a chat with you, young Potter. Sit down, then.' Dumbledore took a seat and snapped his fingers, a creature with purplish skin suddenly appeared with the sound of rushing water. The being's eyes were huge with large lashes. A beak of a nose perched over plush lips. The creature glanced at Harry and nodded before looking back to the old wizard.

'Yes Headmaster?'

* * *

Dumbledore sipped at the tea the house elf had returned with, staring at Harry. He could feel the boy's magick like a cat's claws against a screen. The boy's distrust of adults was especially alarming, the man realized. _To even see me as a threat, but then again he's probably never met someone as magically powerful as I am._ With that the man put up more barriers against his magick and noticed the boy's body relax a bit more.

'I would first like to apologize for and about Hagrid. He should not have been drinking while having you under his charge. However, I understand that you met a witch and her son—the Malfoys?'

Harry merely nodded, his lips growing tight.

'Yes, it's good of them to contact the governors and have you sent here. The abuse you must have been enduring with your and uncle—it must have been horrible. I'm sorry about that, too. Had I knowledge of your circumstances, I would have remedied them immediately.'

The boy suddenly became still and he met Dumbledore's eyes, but his mind was impossible to enter, a strong barricade of magick preventing him.

_What is it?_ Dumbledore wondered. _I intended to coax him. Shouldn't he be welcoming to a grandfatherly figure? Someone who will hold his hand after all these years._ Just like that, the man realized the ignorance of this idea. Already the boy had spent a majority of the summer corresponding with the Malfoy boy and had made ties with Severus—outstretched hands he had chosen to take.

'I assume you are enjoying spending time with Severus Snape?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And what is Professor Snape teaching you?'

The boy turned his eyes to lake and said quietly, 'He leaves me alone for the most part. I eat dinner with him and that is all.'

'I see. It's good he agreed to watch you, then.' _Perhaps the best way to gain his trust is to shake his trust in the people he's forming relationships with. He needs to understand that Severus has his role to play, too, and this is not it._

Harry tried his best to not make eye contact with the man again. The first time he had done it defiantly, feeling the man's mind and magick trying to find entry past his own magick, which seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing the wizard entry. Already the professor had warned him about _occlumency _and _legilimency _. His words echoed in Harry's mind as the boy spoke with the headmaster.

'_Harry, whatever you do, do not make eye contact with Dumbledore. Already you have done it with me, and I was able to glimpse at your immediate memories and thoughts before your magick pushed me out, but Dumbledore is another wizard capable mind magick. Right now your mind and magick are delicate and any probing would be disastrous.'_

'I'm grateful to Professor Snape for watching over me until school starts,' the boy confessed.

'Yes, he really didn't have to. I could have watched you just as easily despite my obligations; however, you must understand that Severus has a debt to your father.' Dumbledore gave him an apologetic smile, sipping his tea. 'With your father no longer being among us, the debt can no longer be returned to him, so I believe Severus is returning this debt by watching over you. I realize you might not understand, but he owed your father a life debt—old magick. A life debt is…'

'My father saved Professor Snape's life,' Harry said bluntly, cutting off the man.

Dumbledore wore a look of surprise, which quickly faded. 'Y-yes. Really, I'm grateful to him for helping you out; however, I think there is more that you should know about the condition of your father's and Severus's relationship. When they were boys, James and Severus were enemies if you will. Often times they were seen in the office for disciplinary action.'

'One bullied the other and the other retaliated.' The boy vaguely knew that something had happened from something Draco had written him over the summer. 'I know that Professor Snape has no love for me, and I'm simply glad to be away from the Dursleys. I would, after all, hate to kill my only family.' With that the boy rose, bowing. 'And, sir? I hate to be rude, but I really must be getting back.'

Dumbledore sighed as he watched the boy hurry for the castle. He really needed to find a way to get him back on the path he was supposed to be on. _It doesn't help that I scared him, though_. He hadn't realized how skittish the boy was, and it was only natural to have a deep mistrust of adults in general. That's the way it was supposed to have been. _To come to Hogwarts as the hero he was _meant_ to be would require the ability to sacrifice without hesitation—an inability for close ties or trust._

Harry was going to be something a little trickier than he imagined. The only hope that Dumbledore really had was to ensure the house that the boy would be placed into. _Lily and James were in Gryffindor, and the chances that Harry, too, be in the same house are high._ _So long as I can get him away from Severus and the Malfoys._ _Then again_, he realized, _I cannot be certain I didn't miscalculate his character either._

Playing with the ends of his beard, the man closed his eyes in exhaustion. _Albus, you've certainly gotten complacent these past eleven years. How could you have let this part spin out of control?_

* * *

Severus knew the second that Harry had come back into the suite when his wards tripped. The boy's magick, though, was what brought his head up from the book he was reading. _Something has happened._ When the boy came into the room, he reminded the professor of a wild beast trying to escape captivity. Harry turned to him, a panicked look in his eye, before closing the door to the living area quietly behind him.

'Where were you today?'

'Out by the lake,' the boy said quietly. 'Headmaster Dumbledore introduced himself to me.'

Raising an eyebrow, the older man placed a bookmark in the tome, setting it down. 'Indeed.'

'Sir, Draco wrote to me about the life debt that you owed my father. I don't mind if it's true, but is that the reason that you—you are kind to me?'

If Harry had looked at him with anything but empty curiosity, Severus would have sneered at the child. _And still I look for _Potter_ where I should be looking for a child who never knew his father. I need to tread carefully or I'll set the boy back weeks. _

'Yes, Harry. I hated—and I still hate—your parents for reasons that are longwinded, drawn out, and, for lack of a better word, _childish_,' he said, sickened by his own admission. 'If it is one thing I have learned over this summer with you, though, it's that the child is most certainly_ not_ the parent. I am most certainly _not _watching you because of a life debt. Such a debt was never passed on to you, nor should it have ever been passed on to you. That debt was for a man no longer part of this world.'

The boy stared at him for a moment and smiled. Severus hoped to never see a smile like that ever again.

'I see.'

'Certainly that can put your mind at ease?'

Harry had already head for his room, the door closing behind him, though. His words almost muffled the click of it shutting. 'In a way yes. In a way no.'

_Damned irritating. Too blasted Slytherin for his own good._

Severus watched the door a few more moments before closing his eyes tight with anxiety. The Potter boy had been pushed and fortunately not too much; however, he couldn't deny that Dumbledore was purposely meddling. _What plots are you aiming for, old friend? What have you done and what are you planning on doing? I never thought the day would come I would be forced to doubt the man that saved me from damnation._


	16. Interlude: Irritable Hints

**Author's Note:** I apologize for not getting back onto a schedule for this. _; RL just seems to be overwhelming since the end of summer.

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**Interlude 2**

_Dear Petunia Evans-Dursley:_

_Your sister gave you my name? I must admit that I am surprised. I had thought that the Evans family would have forgotten me. Then again it appears someone _has_ forgotten. I am a member of her world; however, what can I do for an abuser? Emotional abuse. Physical abuse. I wonder if you beat your own child—should you have one._

_As someone who once knew the Evans family, I will listen to you, though. You say you do not know your own mind and heart, and that you feel as if you are a foreigner in your own skin—tell me when you feel these ways. I need more than some emotional garble on stationery._

_It is faster to correspond with this spell paper. When I send you something the words, 'The half-blood Prince' will appear. Just say your parent's given names and you can read my message. To erase the parchment say, 'So mote it be.' When you wish to write something say, 'To the half-blood Prince,' and when you wish what you write to be passed to my copy of spelled paper say, 'Forgiveness.'_

_Forgiveness. Aptly chosen, I think. That is what you do not deserve from the nephew who is doing well despite what he has lived with. Ironically, he has been placed in my charge and I am seeing to his recovery. That aside, Petunia, perhaps you should recall Spinner's End?_

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_


End file.
